Lonely at the Top
by k4writer02
Summary: During a lonely time, Kalasin Iliniat of Conté, empress of Carthak, receives a visit from her sister the princess Lianne of Conté and her friend Buri. KaddarKalasin. 2nd Place winner Tortallian Heroes & Emelan Circle. Complete!
1. Anticipation

Title: Lonely at the Top  
  
Author: Kate, k4writer02@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: In a time of loneliness and need, Kalasin Iliniat of Conté, empress of Carthak, receives a visit from her sister the princess Lianne of Conté and her friend Buri.  
  
"No doubt your queen needs a lady-in-waiting who's good with lock picks. Or her daughter, who's now Empress of Carthak, might need you even more." Kyprioth p. 409 Trickster's Choice, Tamora Pierce  
  
Author's Notes: I'm assuming that the daughter of Thayet whom Kyprioth refers to is Kalasin, since she is the oldest girl and because someone in Emperor Mage implied that Kalasin was being offered to Kaddar in a marriage- treaty. What if it's true that Kalasin needs help, and not just with lock- picks? What if she's lonely and homesick? What if she really needs a friend?  
  
This story is set shortly after Aly has returned home to Tortall from the Copper Isles. Lianne, one of Jonathan and Thayet's daughters, was mentioned during the Protector of the Small quartet. I'm going to assume Lianne is two years younger than Aly. In my version, she is intended for a Prince of Maren.  
  
We know that Jon and Thayet have at least five children: Roald (23), Kalasin(22), Liam(18), Lianne(15), and Jasson(14). I added a daughter: Eleanora(16), because in TC when Jon visits Alanna she asks if "one of the princesses" had been kidnapped. If we accept that Kalasin is already out of the country and married, and Lianne is the only other daughter, the statement doesn't work. So, Nora is the middle Conté child, since PotS established that Lianne is the youngest princess in Tortall.  
  
~~~~  
  
Ch 1  
  
Empress Kalasin of Iliniat and Conté stood beside her husband beneath a tent on the dock in the capital city of Carthak. They were waiting to welcome a party of ambassadors from Tortall, her homeland. She had not seen the land of her birth since she left it to join her betrothed in the empire he ruled four years ago. There was a Tortallan embassy, of course, staffed by young nobles well versed in Carthaki customs, but without her family or friends, it felt strangely foreign. She had left behind two loving parents, numerous brothers and sisters, and a host of adoptive family.  
  
She had been tutored at home, in Tortall, about proper modes of behavior in the court at Carthak, and she had stayed at the embassy for six months of application and practice. During that time, she had become acquainted with her betrothed, Emperor Kaddar Iliniat. She was well prepared to assume the technical duties of Empress, but she had not been prepared for the loneliness.  
  
Even though Queen Thayet had often told stories about her homeland, Sarain, a place few would feel fondly about, Kalasin had expected to adapt. Despite the facts that returning there was impossible, and there were few people left in Sarain for Thayet to miss, (especially because her best friend and bodyguard, Buri, had come with her) she reminisced about it wistfully. But how to explain the highlands and the fierce wildness of the K'mir to children born in a forested city valley? So mostly, Thayet tried to describe the food and the way the air felt as she galloped across the highlands on the back of a K'miri horse.  
  
Kalasin had not brought any of her girlhood friends or ladies-in-waiting from Tortall to Carthak. She had believed it would be unfair to ask anyone to make a new life in this bizarre, war-torn, hot land of slaves and strange gods. Which was not to say that she thought it was unfair that she was in the position of making a new life in Carthak. Her mother and father had honestly discussed the benefits and difficulties of life as a foreign monarch with her, and she understood why and how her marriage would benefit her homeland. She had been raised to know her duty to her people, and so she had lived here, making the best of loneliness and isolation for four years. She had learned to love Kaddar, but there were times she desperately missed her mother and adopted aunts and sisters. She missed having a trustworthy female confidant.  
  
She had been married for three and a half years, now. Her younger brother, Liam, was the only one who had been able to attend the event. The war made it dangerous to leave home, but leaving the royal family totally unrepresented in an event with as much political importance as a marriage of state was unthinkable. Liam had attended with his knight master. He had treated her like a stranger.  
  
It had been four years since she had seen home, four years of tension between Tortall and Scanra (tension that had culminated in war), four years of fear for her adopted uncles and aunts and brothers and sisters friends who were squires and knights and warriors and spies. It often seemed that she didn't possess a single family member or friend who was in a safe occupation.  
  
She had been married to Kaddar for three and a half years now, and she had not born a child. No child meant there was no heir, and empresses who did not produce heirs did not always live long full lives. She wasn't afraid for her life, yet. She was not yet a failure. Her husband had not reproached her or given her reason to doubt his fidelity.  
  
Unfortunately, his compassionate good manners did not extend to the rest of the court, or the rest of his family. His mother had made several less than subtle complaints about Kalasin's failure to give her a grandchild.  
  
When those comments were made, Kalasin felt sharp stabs of longing for her own mother. Thayet had done her duty to the kingdom, in every regard, especially with heirs and spares and princesses for alliances. Despite her own success, Thayet knew better than to put pressure on her daughter-in- law. Roald's bride had not yet produced a child either.  
  
Even more than the idea of a low-pressure mother-in-law, Kalasin missed her mother. She missed Thayet's strong, reassuring presence and loving speech. She missed the way her mother helped her relax and held her tight until whatever hurt had eased.  
  
Kally had miscarried her first pregnancy, and none of the healers in Carthak had been able (or willing) to explain how it happened, with Kally's healing Gift as strong as it was. Kaddar had sent spies to investigate quietly. His suspicions had been true. The mage who cast the curse was caught and dealt with immediately, according to Carthaki custom. Young Princess Kally would have been horrified at the violence, but Empress Kalasin felt only a dull pulse of vindication. Kally the sweet princess from Tortall died with her unborn child. The woman left in her stead was Kalasin; empress, wife, and bereaved mother.  
  
Even after the wedding, Kally had kept some of her innocence, and most of her sweetness. The deliberate murder of her unborn child had ripped the veil of innocence from her eyes. She had seen the dark side of human nature, and it sickened her. Kaddar had been wonderful in those first weeks after she lost the baby. He had comforted her with gentle words and kind touches. Their loss had brought them closer together. Kalasin now loved Kaddar, but there was still bitterness for the loss of her first child.  
  
She had not told her family about losing the baby-there was nothing anyone could do about it after it happened, and it would have worried them terribly. She knew that her mother would give her father a hard time over sending Kalasin to a country where people assassinated an unborn baby. If Kalasin's letters took on a bitter tone for almost a year after the tragedy, she assumed that the Contés had chalked it up to homesickness or worry over the war. They had avoided mentioning the tone of her letters as carefully as she had avoided mentioning the loss of her child. Of course, it was also possible that they had been too busy to think about it. But now she was pregnant again, and this time there were enough protection spells surrounding herself and her womb to repel any of a hundred curses.  
  
At three months, Kalasin had finally told her family of her second pregnancy, and in celebration they were sending an ambassador, the identity of whom would be a surprise, though the letters had hinted that it was a woman she knew well from her childhood. Kalasin and her family wrote letters in code and sealed by magic, just in case prying eyes intercepted their correspondence. While the security helped, it could sometimes be extremely confusing.  
  
In her heart, Kalasin was hoping that it would be her mother. She missed Thayet desperately. The last four years had given her new appreciation of her mother's courage. Thayet had left her homeland with nothing but her best friend and the rags on her back, had fallen in love with a Prince, married him, bore him children, and participated in ruling and reforming a nation for more than twenty years.  
  
Reform was coming slowly to Carthak, but Kalasin was proud of what she and Kaddar had accomplished so far. There was less intrigue in the Court these days. There were malcontents and frictions along the borders, but each year the threat of revolution receded a bit. After assuring the safety of the throne, Kalasin would work on replacing and freeing slaves. She had already refused to allow slaves in the palace. Though many Carthakis considered it an odd whim of a Northern girl, thus far she had been humored. The university faculty and students had supported her efforts. Many nobles had ceded to her with good grace. Kalasin had started schools throughout the Empire, open to all children, even slaves. She was working on finding ways to alert families that their kinsmen or women had become enslaved. She sponsored training in the arts of self-defense for women at the temple of the Goddess. It wasn't the Queen's Riders, but everything starts somewhere.  
  
Realistically, Kalasin knew that her mother would not be aboard the ship. Thayet was needed at home, and life outside of Tortall's borders was dangerous. The same was true for Lianne and Nora. Kalasin's second choice was Buri, but Buri had married recently, and would not leave her husband. Daine would not return to the domain of the Graveyard Hag, or to a place where she herself had caused so much destruction. Besides, she had a new baby and a husband to think of. Alanna was busy on the border of Scanra, or tanning Alianne's hide for disappearing into the Copper Isles for a year. Onua could not leave her horses. Cythera would not leave her husband or three small children. Rispah and Eleni were possibilities, but they were not so much a part of Kalasin's childhood, and they each had lives. It was possible that Eleni would come as a healer, but Kalasin wasn't convinced. And Alianne had just returned home after a year in the Copper Isles. She would not want to leave again so soon. Nor would her mother allow her such a distance.  
  
Kalasin sighed and fanned herself lightly. Even with the tent, the sun and heat were intense. Her Northern blood was used to seasons, not this perpetual and unbearable heat. She was lucky that she had been able to talk the nobles into putting up a tent. Pregnancy had won that concession. She was six months along, and no one wanted to jeopardize anything by giving the empress heat stroke.  
  
At that moment, a servant interrupted her thoughts by bringing her an icy cool glass of water. Glass was an expensive commodity, but Kalasin found it an oddly beautiful art form. "Thank you." She took it from the server's hands, but waited to take a sip. She sent Kaddar a grateful look He had come to understand her needs so well. "Safe?" She mouthed. His wedding present to her had been a set of gems that detected poison in food. They worked as well as his own jewels, but she still preferred to ask him.  
  
"Safe." He promised her. He reached out and touched the hand that was not holding the glass. "Relax."  
  
She tried to smile. "I'm sorry, it's just so hot."  
  
"You should sit down." He told her, looking in concern at her flushed face.  
  
"The throne is made of metal. It would be worse than standing. At least this way I feel a breeze, if there is one." Kalasin tried to reassure her husband.  
  
"You're anxious." Kaddar smiled, but there was anxiety in his own expression. "Do you think they will not approve of our reforms?"  
  
"No, no." She said hastily. "No, I know they will be quite impressed. It's just," She paused, searching for words. She sipped the cool water and sighed in relief. "Oh, it's been four years since I've seen my friends and my family, save Liam. Letters and scrying and seeing through mirrors or fire simply aren't the same."  
  
Kaddar agreed. "So you're worried that they have changed?"  
  
"Yes." She confessed. "And no. I know I have changed. What if they haven't?" She sipped again. "Or, what if we've both changed so much we can no longer recognize who we used to be? The girl who left Tortall could not make the decisions I now make on a daily basis." She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to relieve the pain of the straps of the sandals digging into her tender skin. "Plus, I feel enormous. They'll remember and expect the girl who half-starved herself for fear of the life waiting for her across the Great Inland Sea, not a woman grown and changed by experience."  
  
He caressed her hand. "Your parents are wise enough to send someone who loves you so dearly she will be delighted to see you, despite the changes."  
  
Kalasin smiled.  
  
"In fact, it's hard to imagine anyone being anything other than delighted upon seeing you, unless breathlessness replaces delight." Kaddar soothed. "You have surpassed all rivals as the world's most beautiful woman."  
  
Kalasin finally laughed, to placate him, though she didn't believe a word of his flattery. "You are my husband. You must say so."  
  
"It is true." Kaddar protested, eying her elaborate costume with appreciative eyes. "Haven't you heard the ballads and the brawls in the street?" He teased. "The Copper Island sailors may claim that their new Queen is the most beautiful ever seen, but no Carthaki who has laid eyes on you or your portrait will allow such falsehoods to be repeated."  
  
"You're being very bad." She murmured in an undertone. "The sailors will take it as orders to attack Islanders and the gods know that's the last thing we need."  
  
He sighed. "You're the only woman I know who doesn't preen like a parrot when she receives a compliment."  
  
"It's not that I don't enjoy knowing that my husband appreciates me." She murmured. "But I won't have anyone harmed for recognizing another's beauty."  
  
Kaddar kissed her hand, the only part of her he could safely reach without disturbing her costume. Kalasin drained the rest of the water from the glass, and wished she dared to rest the chilled glass against her flushed skin. But such behavior was undignified. Reluctantly, Kalasin surrendered the delicate glass to a servant.  
  
At that moment, a ship flying a Tortallan banner sailed into the harbor. Eagerly, Kalasin scoured the deck to see if she recognized the family crest on the other banners. She turned her eyes to the deck when she recognized flags of Conté, and Goldenlake. She kept her dignity, but her eyes sparkled. Buri and one of her sisters had come! 


	2. Sisters

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 2/? (Six at the moment, but it's running away with me.)  
  
Author: Kate, k4writer02@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: In a time of loneliness and need, Kalasin Iliniat of Conté, empress of Carthak, receives a visit from her sister the princess Lianne of Conté and her friend Buri.  
  
Authors Note: Please review. I've never written a Tamora Pierce story before, and I'd really like to know if I'm doing justice to the originals. Thanks for reading! I appreciate it.  
  
Ch 2  
  
In her suite at the palace, Kalasin hastily removed her sandals. The shoes were heeled in the style of the Empire, and even after four years of practice, the straps did vicious things to her feet. "Oh." She gasped to empty air. "Oh, that's better."  
  
She began to work at unbuttoning the heavy dress. The garment was designed for appearance, not for the wearer's comfort. It was garishly colored, heavily embroidered and encrusted with jewels. Kalasin could barely stand the waste the gown represented. She could've freed a slave for the same price as this gown. The fabric, the stitching and the gems had cost more than she could justify, since she didn't actually take pleasure in the garment. At least the gems could be reused. Perhaps the fabric could be cut down to a smaller dress after the baby was born.  
  
Kalasin shed the heavy fabric and stood in her undergarments, breathing quickly to cool herself. The suite had been specially altered to fit her specifications. Numair had accompanied her to Carthak four years ago, to leave her for her training. With his coercion and guidance, one of the university mages had found a way to chill the air and fan it through her suite. The temperature delighted her.  
  
She reached toward her hair, which had been ruthlessly styled this morning. She couldn't undo it before the state dinner that evening. She sighed. As Empress, she both set and followed Carthaki styles. She had been unable to change the hairstyles this far, and she wasn't particularly fond of the elaborate, restrictive headwear favored by the ladies of the empire. But there was only so much the conservatives would tolerate-and deviance in dress would upset them more deeply than quiet, behind the scenes work to free their slaves and ameliorate the conditions in which prisoners lived.  
  
The door that connected her suite to the guest suite swung open, and Lianne burst through. "Oh, Kally, how are you, really?" Lia froze when she saw that Kally was basically standing in her underwear, trying to cool off.  
  
"I am so glad to see you." Kalasin said softly and honestly. She did not try to cover herself modestly or shrink away from her sister's scrutiny. "I was worried about you, though. I didn't think you would leave home with conditions as dangerous as they are."  
  
Lia tisked briskly, overcoming her surprise at her sister's condition. "You shouldn't let them work you so hard, Kally. You're not taking care of yourself."  
  
Kalasin let out a strangled giggle. "Well, that's why they sent you, isn't it? To take care of me."  
  
"For the next few months at least. Hush." Lia said, frowning as she looked around the room.  
  
"No one's eavesdropping. I have it checked for listening spells twice a week, and I personally control all of the adjoining suites. All servants have been reassigned to other locations for the afternoon."  
  
Lia breathed a sigh. Kally didn't have a devious bone in her body. "Are you sure about the listening spells? Some are very subtle."  
  
"Numair set up a wall of protection for me. It also gives off innocuous noise to anyone who cares to try to eavesdrop. I myself have the Gift, and check my rooms frequently. In addition, I pay a number of different mages to maintain my security. If one is paid to miss something, another catches it."  
  
Lianne saved her breath and bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that someone willing to pay one mage would have few qualms about paying others. "You look fabulous." She remarked, studying her sister. "The sun here has darkened your skin a bit. Very becoming." She commented. "Your hair is shining, your eyes are bright, your teeth are flawless and all present-I believe I can give mother and the superficial biddies at home a good report."  
  
Kalasin laughed. "You have a strange way of measuring my appearance. Not a single mention of my figure?"  
  
Lianne shook her head and embraced her older sister. "How much longer?" She asked.  
  
"Three months till the baby's born." Kalasin said, resting a protective hand over her swollen stomach.  
  
"I meant how long till dinner?"  
  
"Two hours." Kalasin sighed. "Hand me my robe, I need to sit down."  
  
Lia fetched it for her, biting her tongue from voicing her worry about how tired Kalasin seemed. Her sister all but collapsed in the chair, leaning her head back against it and yawning. "You shouldn't have come out to meet me." Lia scolded. "You look worn out."  
  
"Behold your future." Kalasin said dryly. "When you marry the prince of Maren, you'll find yourself running all about showing the commoners that you value motherhood by running yourself ragged while pregnant."  
  
Lia pouted at her sister.  
  
"Sorry." Kalasin sighed and resettled herself in the chair, and looked down to adjust her dressing gown. "I'm just desperate for some gossip from home. Letters aren't the same." Kally looked up. "I need to hear all about the Great Progress and the Maren Prince who's courting you. And the details of the Scanran war that I can handle. And don't leave out a single word of Alianne's story."  
  
Lia flushed uncomfortably. "Let me hang up that gown. That's no way to treat good fabric." She imitated their dressmaker, Kuri, flawlessly. It used to draw a smile at least from the princess, but the empress just closed her eyes guiltily. "I mean it. Stop pushing yourself so hard." Lianne lectured. "I know how badly you want to change this country, but you can't do it if you drop dead of exhaustion."  
  
"You've been here an hour and you're already lecturing me?" Kalasin asked, in a tone too tired to be tart.  
  
Thoroughly alarmed, Lia paused, arms full of fabric. "Has it been so bad as all that, then?" She asked sympathetically, using the more colloquial speech of the commoners, which Alianne of Pirate's Swoop had taught them.  
  
Kalasin shook her head. "No, no. It's not like that. Kaddar really is wonderful, you know. He treats me. . ." She smiled, "I was about to tell you he treats me like a queen, but really, it's better than that. He loves me, I know. I'm lucky."  
  
"Love does a lot, when you're trapped in a foreign land." Lianne allowed. "But it doesn't stop you from missing home."  
  
"You speak from experience?" Kalasin skillfully redirected the conversation.  
  
"Time for that later." Lianne said. "Tell me, have you thought about names yet?" She asked.  
  
Kalasin nodded. "We've started by striking off the things we know we don't want. Ozorne, obviously is off the list."  
  
Lianne laughed, grateful to witness Kalasin's sense of humor. "Might as well strike Jasson, Roald and Jonathan off the list too."  
  
"Whatever for?" Kalasin asked. "I like my brothers and father."  
  
"Aye, but think of the poor school children who'll have to learn our history. They won't be able to keep all the Jassons and Jonathans and Roalds straight as is."  
  
"Anything for future students." Kalasin smirked.  
  
Lianne sighed. "It really is remarkable."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Me?" Her sister laughed.  
  
"Yes, you. I spent a year with the Court of Maren, you know, and their Princess is a lovely little thing. I met the new Queen of the Copper Isles, and she is quite nearly breathtaking. I've known mother since I was in my cradle, and I spend plenty of time in front of my mirror. But you're more beautiful than any of us. Pity you're married."  
  
"Oh, not you too." Kalasin said in disgust. "I feel like a wine skin that's too full and heating up in the sun. I'm ready to burst all the time, from the heat and the hormones."  
  
"I think it's the dreamy, content expression when you talk about the baby and Kaddar." Lianne evaluated. "And you're such a blend of our parents. Yes, I think it's true. Mother has finally been surpassed as the world's most beautiful royal."  
  
"She'll be delighted to hear it." Kalasin said tartly. Like most young women, Kalasin enjoyed compliments, but she refused to allow pleasure in her appearance to deteriorate to vanity. "Stop. If I wanted a litany about my beauty I'd call one of the poets. I want to hear about you and the Court of Maren. What did you think of the Prince?"  
  
"No one will ever call him handsome or clever unless they're trying to flatter the fool." Lianne laughed a bit scornfully. "But he's a good enough man, I suppose." She tried to coax the displeased look off her sister's face. "He'd rather be a priest than a Prince, but he'll do his duty or find competent advisers to do it for him. Of course, he could leave it all to me, the stuck-up Tortallan who doesn't know her place."  
  
Kalasin shivered at Lianne's cynical bitterness. "It's not so bad, not knowing your place." She murmured sympathetically.  
  
Lia laughed at her, shaking off the dark cloud. "I brought it all on myself. I was so sure I knew the right way to do everything that I started correcting everyone."  
  
"You were just enthusiastic." Kalasin murmured.  
  
"Arrogant is more like." Lia confessed. "I stayed with a good family, though." She said wryly.  
  
Kalasin nodded. "Did you take care of any children while you were there? I remember hearing that Maren women are very devoted to the maternal aspect of the Goddess."  
  
"I did take care of the children in the family." Lianne confirmed. "It's the one thing that redeemed me in their eyes. Instead of being hopeless, I just need work." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh, so young Lianne put her skills to work, did she?" Kalasin teased.  
  
Lianne blew a raspberry at the older woman. "I may have shirked baby- sitting as a child, but it was only because you loved the duty so." She adopted an innocent tone.  
  
"You're lucky we won't see each other frequently." Kalasin tisked. "I won't have to explain to my children that you're a terrible liar."  
  
Lianne giggled. "Oh, I did miss you." She said suddenly.  
  
Kalasin sighed. "I should bathe before dinner. It's likely to be quite warm in the dining hall."  
  
"How charming." Lianne commented sarcastically. "We have some time left. Now, I want to hear about you."  
  
"Running an empire may sound glamorous but really it's a lot of painstaking administration and trying to help people who don't want help and don't want to be happy and don't want to change." Kalasin shook her head. Her sister already knew that. "I'm sure you know as much about the politics of my empire as you want to, so I won't bore you with details. There are still problems along the borders, but each year Kaddar and I get stronger. I'm changing things quietly. There are no slaves in this palace, only hired servants. I'm starting schools throughout the nation, and making it law that all children, even slaves, must attend long enough to learn letters and numbers. I'm working on programs that allow slaves to earn freedom and send messages to their families."  
  
Lianne sent her friend a quizzical look.  
  
"Uncle George and I have been writing letters lately. He's developed new sympathy for slaves since Aly disappeared. He pointed out that it was quite possible that some silly girls who have families willing and able to pay for their freedom may have been taken for slaves. There are families who would sacrifice everything to recover their daughters and sons. I simply give them the opportunity to do so."  
  
Lianne sighed. Kalasin was an intelligent woman, but not every family had the means to buy back a lost son or daughter. Some families even sold their children in order to keep the rest of the family together. "It's a wonderful idea." She said simply, though the impractical side of things had immediately caught her attention.  
  
"I know it's not perfect. My reforms eat up a lot of money, and it's so hard to measure the benefits. It's hard to know if morality always beats the bottom line, but I have to try." Kalasin said, and there was such pure passion in her eyes that Lianne blinked. "You know it's always been their Majesties' practice to buy back Tortallans, but how can they do that if they don't know who the Tortallans are?"  
  
"You get that idealism from Mother and Father too. The idea that you can make the world a better place."  
  
"I can." Kalasin insisted. "So could you." Lianne's face closed. "But it is hard work." Kalasin conceded lamely.  
  
"And it's a tough balance, doing all that noble reform quietly and keeping your Court in line and happy and sure that the boat won't rock." Lianne teased.  
  
"You don't know how right you are." Kalasin told her. "And after reform and maintenance of the Empire and the nobles, there's worrying about producing an heir and keeping Kaddar's mother satisfied and in her place-,"  
  
Lianne choked on a laugh. "What?"  
  
"Lia, be grateful you don't have a mother-in-law yet." Kalasin told Lianne wearily.  
  
Lianne made a dismissive noise. "I lived at the Maren court for a year. I'm well acquainted with how charming the Queen is."  
  
"Wait until you get married." Kalasin predicted in a dire tone.  
  
"The woman is already convinced there's no one good enough for her son, especially not a know-it-all Tortallan."  
  
"Not a thin-blooded Northern princess." Kalasin said, at the same time Lianne said know-it-all. Kally rolled her eyes. "One second I'm so beautiful I'm having an affair with this or that noble and the next I'm pale and thin and colorless." Kalasin rolled her eyes. "I haven't produced an heir yet, so there must be something wrong with me. . ." She sniffled.  
  
Lia reached out to Kalasin, sensing true pain. "Shh." She murmured.  
  
Kalasin's defenses weakened. "I miss my own home. I miss Mother." She whispered. "She knew how to laugh at the nobles behind their backs without being cruel. She knew how to laugh, period." Kalasin confessed in a torrent of words. "I miss Buri, who could disappear and hide during social functions. I miss Roald. I still haven't met his bride yet, or his friend Keladry. I miss you, Lia. I miss Jasson and Liam and Nora and father and Thom and Alan and Aly and Alanna and George and Raoul and Onua and Eleni and Myles and Daine and Numair and their baby who I haven't met and Duke Gareth and Uncle Gary and Cythera and their children and Neal and his smart mouth and duke Baird and--," She took a deep breath. "And food that tastes sweet without spice and potatoes and bread and breeches and comfortable clothes and-and seasons and not worrying about who's listening every second and Corus and the sea side and the way the air smelled and oh, I miss home." The empress babbled.  
  
For a long time, both girls were silent. Lianne rocked Kally back a forth for comfort, much as she had calmed the Maren children the year before. Kalasin took deep breaths to calm herself. Her tears eased and stopped. Finally, she sat up straight. "It's the baby. I weep at the drop of a hat these days."  
  
"That's not true." Lianne told her. "I see the way your servants treat you. They think you're far too wonderful to be true, but they're willing to hope. They trust you the way they wouldn't trust someone who changed her mind at the droop of a handkerchief."  
  
Kalasin smiled, a genuine smile. "So, tell me about Roald's bride."  
  
"She's quite pretty. Smart. Shy, though. They love each other."  
  
Kalasin nodded, pleased. "That's what I hoped."  
  
"She brought her best friend Yuki with her from the Yamani Isles. Yuki's having a romance with Neal. They're married, but his mouth is still smart as ever. He makes me laugh." Lianne smirked. "It is too bad, he used to be wonderful to flirt with."  
  
Kalasin sighed. She had done very little flirting, believing it was unfair to play at love when she knew she was promised to life in a distant land.  
  
"They're friends with Keladry, who the Lioness still adores." Lianne shrugged. "Kel seems a good sort. She did something grand and heroic in Scanra that has helped to end the war. Raoul and Buri both like her, so she can't be too bad. She's a good, solid warrior, you know? Not so quick, not so sparklingly beautiful, but a good warrior and a good woman. The realm is glad to have her." Lianne thought for a second. "Who else haven't you met? Oh, yes, Daine and Numair's baby. A beauty, that one. Little girl they named Sarralyn. Active little thing, she keeps them busy, no doubt about that."  
  
Kalasin nodded. "All babies keep their parents busy, I hear."  
  
"You'll know, soon enough." Lianne indicated the bulge in Kally's midsection. "Mother stays busy as ever. She misses you something fierce." Lianne's perceptive gaze met Kalasin's red-rimmed eyes. "And I bet it's the same for you. You two always were closer than she and I. Or she and Nora, for that matter."  
  
"How's Roald?" Kalasin didn't answer directly in words, but her eyes were eloquent.  
  
"He's well." Lianne said. "All of us are. Liam won his shield this year, and is going up to Galla to see if he can't court the daughter of the king who Kaddar rejected in favor of your own lovely self." Lianne teased. "Jasson's quite the charmer. I'm not sure how he'll turn out, but whatever it is should be grand and shocking. Maybe he'll marry one of Aly's friends from the Copper Isles and cement peace along Tortall's coast. Anything's possible." Lianne thought for a moment. "Nora has all the pages and half the squires in love with her. Half the Court is enthralled by her antics, the other half appalled."  
  
Kalasin nodded. "I expected no less."  
  
"Father is well too. In his own way he misses you as much as mother."  
  
That almost started a fresh round of tears. Kalasin had always been close to Thayet, but a special part of her heart was reserved for Jonathan. He loved each of his children deeply, but Kalasin, his first daughter, had a special place in his heart. It hadn't stopped him from dissuading her from enrolling as a page. It hadn't stopped him from sending her to Carthak and an arranged marriage to a stranger. But he contacted her frequently through magic. Even when the war had stretched him and his concentration thinner than anyone liked, he was the Voice of the Bazhir. After communing with the desert tribes, once a week he contacted Kalasin. But not even magic could make up for no longer sitting at his side during evening meal.  
  
She had known how to prepare his favorite drink and snack after a stressful day. Kalasin had always been the child who wanted to please, wanted to make others around her happy. She had a powerful Gift to heal, and her entire personality was geared toward healing wounds. Once, she had wanted to do heroic deeds. Now, she concentrated on healing the wounds left on and by warriors.  
  
"Let's see." Lianne mused. "Uncle Gary and Cythera are happy as larks, though Uncle Gary worries after us all, you in particular, since you are so far from his watchful eye. Their girls are the light of their father's life, while their son is the light of Cythera's. The Duke is greatly enjoying watching what goes around come around, if you know what I mean, though he's resting on the estate at Naxen under the Duchess's eye. Father sent Nora to them until the Court calms down over her latest rash of pranks. Raoul and Buri get on quite well together. No children, but plenty of duty. Myles and Eleni are busy as bees and rather content, now that the war is ending."  
  
"Latest pranks?"  
  
"Well, the Duke survived Uncle Gary. He can tolerate Nora. You never know, she might learn discipline. At the least, he'll have something to laugh about."  
  
"Well, who was involved in these pranks?"  
  
"Most of the pages and the younger squires." Lianne smiled. "Nothing dangerous or cruel, just lightening the mood in her own creative way."  
  
Kalasin's eyebrows rose. "Father disapproved of lightening the mood?"  
  
"It's an excuse. You know they've wanted Nora to spend time at Naxen with Duke Gareth for a long time. Cure some of those high spirits of hers."  
  
"You mean at the least there'll be someone with healing magic about to shore him up." Kalasin surmised.  
  
Lianne shrugged and nodded. She and Liam were the only un-Gifted Conté children. She had always enjoyed her great uncle, who was the brother of her namesake, but his temper was best suited to peppery little Nora. Plus, her sister could preserve her dear uncle's health better than she could.  
  
"She shouldn't just be shuttled away so the Court doesn't have to look at the only one of us who never bent to anyone's will." Kalasin sighed. "The Duke never curbed our high spirits."  
  
"He loved me too much." Lianne laughed. "You? High Spirits? Mithros bless me, you were always sweet as sugar. You loved Mother so much, you adored Roald, you were Father's pet, you ran herd on us wild young ones. You didn't have spirits to curb or cure."  
  
Kalasin blushed. "You haven't mentioned your own love life." She needled, deflecting the compliments by asking a question.  
  
"You know me. So many boys, so little time." Lianne fluttered dismissively.  
  
"I don't buy it." Kally shook her head. "You understood what I meant, when I talked about how comforting it is to have the man you love with you when you're far from home. Is it the Prince?" She asked hopefully.  
  
Lia rolled her eyes. "It's confusing." She said indulgently.  
  
Kalasin paused. It was no secret that arranged marriages didn't always work out happily, but she had hoped for better for her siblings. "Look at our parents, Lia. Of course our love-lives are complicated."  
  
"The prince is a decent man, but I'm not in love with him." Lianne said honestly.  
  
Kally sighed. This was bad news, because selfish concerns and desires could not come above the concerns of the state. "Who, then?"  
  
"No one you know." Lia averted her eyes. "We should really get ready for this evening. I bet Buri is almost done with directing the cargo of the ship and unpacking our trunks." Lianne tried to evade Kalasin's piercing eye.  
  
"Trunks?"  
  
"You've three months yet before you give the world another idealist." Lianne teased. "You don't expect us to leave before the naming of the baby, do you? Mother's given us the next half-year to spend looking after you. Perhaps Lord Raoul will come for a visit if his wife's away long enough."  
  
"Perhaps." Kalasin agreed doubtfully. "Perhaps he'll bring your friend."  
  
"I don't know who you're talking about." Lianne flushed.  
  
"Don't lie to me." Kally exhorted. "Who is he?"  
  
Lianne ignored her and stood as if to go.  
  
Kalasin frowned and applied her powers of deduction. "He was with you in Maren, but you were lying when you said I don't know him. So he was a member of the party that accompanied you, yes? Let's see, you were gone a full year, so it couldn't be a page or a squire, unless the squire were accompanying the knight who escorted you." She frowned. "They needed men at the front, but perhaps an armed escort went with you. Bazhir? I know that an older knight led the party, a man of good name and character but no use in the fight against Scanra."  
  
Lianne pursed her lips. "Stop it. I just said it. I didn't even mean it. Please, Kally, you could really mess up something good for me."  
  
"Something good?" Kalasin repeated in near disbelief. "You think that a marriage to a man who is neither clever nor attractive, a man to whom you pay only the compliment of "decency" is good?"  
  
"I can't stay at home forever. Mother and Nora and I will argue each other to pieces. I can't join the Queen's Riders, and eventually I'll get bitter at Father for refusing to let me have a go at training for knighthood. The person whose identity you are trying to discover also has a complicated family, and I don't think marriage is an option for us." Lianne made a puh sound. "Even if it were, we have to live somewhere. You can't offend royalty the way we would if we got married. We can't just lose ourselves in the Great Southern Desert or go North to the Roof of the World." She sighed. "I wish I weren't a princess. If I were a noble I could still do something good and useful like healing or teaching. Something beyond marrying a prince I don't particularly like. I want to do something important. Discover something worth remembering. I don't want to get married yet. Kally, I'm only fifteen."  
  
Kalasin sighed, stretched out her arms to her sister. It was Lianne's turn to lean against her sister and shed a few tears. "Well, you have six months with me, and then you know how long it takes to plan these things. That's another year, at the least. You'll probably go on progress, too. There's time." She murmured, soothing her sister and hoping Lianne wouldn't notice the way her fatigued arms were trembling.  
  
"It isn't fair." Lianne mumbled. "Nora's older than I, and there's no marriage in the offing for her."  
  
Kalasin had no reply.  
  
Lianne sniffed and dabbed at her face with the handkerchief Kalasin gave her. "Nora's more clever than she lets on. She's been studying at University for ever so long. She's Uncle Gary's assistant, you know. She'll be allowed to stay in Tortall and help Roald run the country, since she understands so much. She'll probably even get to pick her husband, since she has such a talent for offending foreign dignitaries. I wouldn't be surprised if she marries Thom." Lianne babbled.  
  
"Please hush." Kalasin pleaded, suddenly understanding too much about the identity of Lianne's beloved.  
  
"Maybe Duke Gareth isn't trying to curb her spirits. Maybe he's giving her special Prime Minister secrets so she can have that much more reason to stay home." Lianne was almost hysterical.  
  
Kalasin held on tight while Lianne sobbed. After a few minutes, the empress reminded her younger sister that she would be meeting the Court of Carthak with red eyes if she didn't stop crying over something she couldn't solve with sniffling. The princess calmed herself. The sisters parted then, to bathe and dress and prepare for the banquet. It would be Kalasin's first opportunity in four years to see Buri. She did not intend to waste a moment of the time with the woman who had been her surrogate mother. 


	3. What Did You Do?

Ch 3  
  
Kaddar Iliniat waited for his wife to arrive, so they could enter the banquet room and begin the feast. It was unlike her to be late, but he imagined she had been chattering with her sister so long that she lost track of time. Kaddar knew how badly she missed her home and family. He was pleased beyond measure that one of her sisters had been spared from duties at home. He had written an enclosure suggesting that Kalasin would appreciate seeing a family member. It was a good sign that his in-laws had respected his opinion enough to honor his request. Relations between the countries were still strained, but he and Kalasin were mending it.  
  
He was surprised the Lianne had come instead of the older sister, Nora. Lianne was all but engaged to a Maren prince, while as near as he could tell, Nora had run wild. It wasn't his business, considering he had never met the girl, but he couldn't help comparing her to her illustrious kin. She was the only one in the family who hadn't chosen a path of study and discipline. He knew that she was intelligent enough to be the Prime Minister's assistant, and that she had received special instruction in using her Gift. But the girl lacked self-control. She played pranks and deliberately offended foreign guests who came to the Court to offer for her hand in marriage. She certainly wasn't a Duke Roger of Conté, but she was fonder of power for the sake of power than her siblings.  
  
The door to his suite opened, and he turned expectantly to greet Kalasin. Instead, Lady Buriram Tourakam of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak stood in the doorway, looking awkward and angry. "My lady." He greeted impassively.  
  
She inclined her head, as she ran her eyes around his room. He thought he could detect her scrutinizing every inch, as though she expected and was prepared for armed mercenaries to fall through the roof at any second. "Your Majesty." She replied.  
  
"You found your quarters adequate?"  
  
"Quite." Buri said shortly. An uneasy pause hung between them. "I am a woman of actions, not words." She broke the silence. "May I speak plainly?"  
  
"By all means." Kaddar said, wondering what she could have to say to him.  
  
"What in the name of the Horse Lords have you put Kalasin through in the last four years?" Buri demanded. "She has the look of a soaked cheesecloth, about to fall apart at the seams."  
  
Kaddar stiffened defensively. "The empress is the most beautiful woman in the world."  
  
Buri rolled her eyes. "She looks like a doll, not a real woman. She could barely breathe today, and I'm certain those shoes are hazardous to her health."  
  
"My wife clothes herself in garments befitting her rank." Kaddar said stiffly, defensiveness and wounded pride mingling in him. "As do I. I have been given to understand that ceremonial clothing is not designed for the wearer's comfort, even in Tortall."  
  
"You're stifling the child." Buri accused.  
  
Kaddar sighed. "The empress of Carthak is no child."  
  
Buri looked furious and impotent, as her protective instincts warred with practicality. "She's miserable." The woman who had been both surrogate mother and bodyguard to the eldest princess of Tortall alleged.  
  
"You make this judgment on the basis of what? Three seconds of sight across a crowded dock?" Kaddar attacked. "You haven't even talked to her yet."  
  
"I raised her." Buri said fiercely. "I know what's in her heart and her letters, even at a distance. Her family may have let it slide, but I shall not. She is unhappy."  
  
"She is happier now than I have seen her in the past four years." Kaddar argued. "She's eager for the baby, for the reforms she is instituting, for the learning she does with the University. She has come to love me, and this palace, and her people. Given the choice to return to Tortall or continue her work in Carthak, she would stay here."  
  
Buri hissed, producing a sound that would've been appropriate had it emerged from the throat of a large predatory animal. "What have you done to her?"  
  
"I love her. If she is unhappy, it is not my doing!" Kaddar insisted, allowing passion (or was it panic?) to enter his voice and eyes.  
  
Buri squared her jaw. "What has happened to her?"  
  
"She has seen despair and what causes men to turn to evil deeds." Kaddar said darkly, adopting the flowery language of poet and scholar. "She has condemned prisoners to die, and sent men to battle on her behalf."  
  
Buri barely flinched.  
  
"She has freed slaves and listened to their sorrows. She has built schools and temples and watched them burned by rebels and raiders and pirates."  
  
Buri's jaw worked. "She never wrote that in her letters."  
  
"Would you expect her to include bad news? She only tells you what she thinks you need to know, or what you can't help learning about. She doesn't want you to worry." Kaddar hurled the words at the embodiment of what his wife yearned to return to. He resented the looming figure of Kalasin's memories of home, which divided them. "She has eaten strange food and slept in unfamiliar beds with a man she has learned to love." Buri moved as though to protest, but Kaddar did not heed her. "Kalasin has lived in air that reeks of foreign spices, and bathed in seawater warmer than she ever imagined it could be."  
  
Buri settled back on her heels to take in Kaddar's words with an impassive face. She had helped Thayet teach the royal children how to swim in the freezing water by Pirate's Swoop, one summer many years ago. Roald had wanted to know what was across the water more than he wanted to play in it. Liam had been more interested in the sandy rocks and the creatures than the ocean, but Kalasin had loved the waves and the tide. She would spend hours at a time, coming in only when her small body was so chilled that even in the full heat of a summer day she shivered with a blanket. Now, the threat of a chill was probably erased, but the love of the salt water remained.  
  
"She has worked around nobles whose ideas are so antiquated even Carthaki conservatives condemn their ways." Kaddar allowed sarcasm to seep into his words.  
  
Buri's expression grew wry. Mother and daughter were not so different after all. With work, Thayet had maneuvered diplomatically around Tortall's conservatives for any number of years.  
  
"She has gone four years without hearing her families' voices, hugging her mother and father close, or seeing the glitter of Corus at Midwinter." Kaddar's gaze bore into Buri. "You ask what has happened to her? Kalasin has grown from the sweet and dutiful adolescent you knew to a formidable, powerful and gracious woman."  
  
Buri inclined her head. "You love her."  
  
"Yes." Kaddar confirmed simply.  
  
Buri sighed, and the silence was easier. "I worry about her." Buri said, finally. "She is—Thayet's children are like my own." The confession wrung something from the petite K'miri woman, who was silent for a long moment. "Kalasin has always been special to me. She was always so sweet. And I compounded it. We all did. Her innocence was so beautiful. We sheltered her where we could. She was probably less prepared for the injustices in the world than she could've been. I was sorry when she left her home to come here." Buri bit her lip. "I do not mean to offend you."  
  
"You have not." Kaddar tried to say, but Buri's words were too true. When Kalasin had arrived in Carthak, her innocence had been so strong it was almost tangible. She'd lived through the Immortals War in Tortall, Stormwing siege and assassination attempts, but in her heart she had believed that people meant the best for herself and each other. Those beliefs had eroded slowly, until that horrible moment when she saw her own blood on her legs and realized that it meant the child was lost. Her innocence was gone in that second, but her faith in the goodness of those around her had endured until she realized that someone had intentionally murdered the life inside of her.  
  
"I knew she would be lonely. She didn't bring anyone with her. She didn't want to force anyone to rebuild her life in a foreign land. Thought it was unfair to ask." Buri's face quirked in a painfully amused expression. "She thought nothing of doing it herself, but would not ask another. I've always hated that. I know how hard it was for Thayet and me, and we had each other. At least Kally brought her horse. I'm sure that's been some comfort to her."  
  
"Chavi died in foaling two years ago." Kaddar informed Buri. "But she does like the little filly. She named it Bian. I'm given to understand that the horses are named for gods her mother celebrated?"  
  
"The K'miri Horse lords." Buri's face turned dark. "No, I suppose she didn't want to give us bad news to worry us, now did she?"  
  
"No." Kaddar said, thinly. "No, she doesn't."  
  
"No wonder she's so thin and stretched looking." Buri sighed. "She hasn't talked to anyone, has she?"  
  
"She talks to me." Kaddar said, feeling strangely wounded.  
  
"Nobody female." Buri amended. "It makes a difference. Even the most wonderful men only have so much patience for women's talk. Plus, your mother is probably the trial of her life."  
  
"You know nothing about my marriage. You knew Kalasin as a girl, but since the miscarriage, she is a different woman."  
  
"Miscarriage?" Buri breathed.  
  
Kaddar winced. Had he met to let that fly? He had never agreed with Kalasin's desire to keep that secret, but he had meant to honor it. "Caused by an evil mage. He's been destroyed already." Kaddar explained coldly, as he inwardly quaked in anticipation of the reaction of Kalasin's family and Kalasin herself.  
  
Buri's face contorted for half a second in grief. "She suffers then, and in silence."  
  
"Not silence, but close enough."  
  
"Who else knows?" Buri demanded.  
  
The emperor answered. "I do. No one else, save the healers and the mage who cast the curse. Now you."  
  
Buri sighed. "No wonder you wanted one of her family here for the babe's arrival."  
  
"She's so hopeful for this try, but she's afraid at the same time. She's afraid now, of how much evil and ill will is aimed at herself and our heirs." Kaddar told the older woman. Then, because she had wounded him, he lashed out. "She really wanted her mother, you know."  
  
"I know. But Thayet couldn't be spared for as long as we're visiting." Buri admitted. "Thayet will be here for the naming, though the Great Gods themselves stand in her way."  
  
"The queen misses her daughter as much as my wife misses her mother?" Kaddar asked, pleased in a roundabout way.  
  
"More." Buri said. Roald, Liam, Nora and Jasson were still in Tortall, but Roald was married and had his own life, Liam was leaving for Galla, Nora was not in Corus, and Lianne was preparing to leave. Thayet had not been there for every moment of her children's lives, but she still hated to have them so scattered.  
  
Kaddar expressed disbelief.  
  
Buri shrugged. "I've brought special foods with me. That's why unpacking the ship took so long. They'll be a taste of home for her. She's probably longing for some of it."  
  
Kaddar's face eased into a pleased expression. "If you managed to bring some potatoes and the ingredients for sticky buns I might be able to award you an honorary nobility in Carthak."  
  
Buri's lips twitched. "I'd rather you didn't. My husband might wonder how I pleased the emperor so mightily."  
  
Kaddar coughed to mask a chuckle.  
  
Buti nodded. "When Thayet's time came, she dreamed of mushroom and venison stews till her husband was ready to send an army to Sarain to fetch some for her."  
  
"Cravings for food of the homeland runs in her veins then?"  
  
"During pregnancy, aye." Buri said. "She'll also be pleased to taste some of the candies her aunties remembered to send."  
  
"Who'll be pleased?" Kalasin asked, entering the room.  
  
"You, my Empress." Kaddar took her jeweled hand and kissed it affectionately. "There'll be a feast of food from your homeland, thanks to the Lady Buriram of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak."  
  
Kalasin threw herself at Buri, who caught and clutched at the young woman who was almost her daughter. "I thought you were still unloading the ships! Why didn't you come to me immediately? Oh, I missed you." Kalasin babbled against the shorter woman's hair.  
  
Kaddar blinked at the undignified outpouring. Even in private, his wife was usually a model of restraint and dignity. This helpless, passionate joy at reunion took him aback.  
  
"And I you, little one." Buri responded. She took a step back to look at the Empress of Carthak. "You look like a fashion plate." Her tone was not one of approval.  
  
"I feel like a doll." Kalasin complained.  
  
"You look like a vision though." Kaddar told her. Buri sent him an evil look. Kalasin smiled weakly. "We should prepare to enter the banquet." Kaddar tried to extricate himself from the mess he was about to unleash.  
  
Kalasin nodded. "My crown is in this room, yes?"  
  
Kaddar indicated the box waiting on his desk. Kalasin lifted a thin tiara of braided silver, gold and copper from within the box. "Oh thank you." She murmured. "The rubies would've been unbearably heavy tonight." She fixed the crown in place, using a polished mirror to adjust a lock of hair.  
  
The emperor held out his arm. Kalasin lightly rested her fingers on his forearm. "My lady would be well advised to enter the ballroom before the emperor." Kaddar intoned formally, unsure about the etiquette of the situation.  
  
Buri made a face. "Must I attend?" She gestured to her clean, but practical clothing. "I'm not dressed for the occasion."  
  
Kalasin's face displayed shock.  
  
"I know it's just going to be a bunch of nobles ready to jump on me about anything they dislike in Tortall." Buri explained defensively. "And I'm not in the mood to hang a stone collar around my neck in order to show I'm as good as they."  
  
"The banquet is in your honor." The empress's voice was thin, but not shrill. She invoked a patient, reasonable tone. "Everyone will be there to see you."  
  
"And compare me to their memories of the Lioness and Wild Mage, no doubt." Buri sighed. "Relax young one. I'm not serious. Of course I'll attend this evening's gathering."  
  
Kalasin sighed. "You'd better go first then. They'll really gossip if you come late. I sent Lia straight there."  
  
Buri nodded. "We'll speak more later, in private."  
  
Kaddar wasn't sure who she was addressing her comment to, but when he met her eyes he had to remind himself that he was not one of her trainees for the Queen's Riders. She couldn't order him to run laps or do some monotonous task in order to punish him for not forcing Kalasin to disclose the truths about her life in Carthak. He was the emperor of an enormous amount of land, diverse and numerous people and the most righteous descendant in a hundred years. He was not a schoolboy who could suffer for telling falsehoods. And yet, he would almost rather face a fleet of pirates than the short, stocky, overprotective K'mir who was the closest thing to a mother-in-law that he'd had to deal with in the last four years. Kaddar flinched internally. Maybe his mother was more of a trial to Kalasin than he'd realized before.  
  
Kaddar turned to study his wife's serenely elegant profile. He knew she tried to shield her family from worry and pain on her behalf. Did she do the same for him?  
  
She met his eyes and tried to smile for him, but he suddenly saw the exhaustion etched into every feature. He stopped walking. Confused, she paused beside him. He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek. He was careful not to smudge her face paint. "I love you." He murmured in an undertone. "I don't tell you often enough, but I am grateful that you came to Carthak."  
  
Confusion clouded her face, but she managed a pleased expression. "I'm glad too." She said honestly. "There's no one else I could love as I love you. And there's no other place where I could do this work to make a better world."  
  
Kaddar nodded, and they resumed their stately procession through the corridors. "Have your clerks cancel your appointments for the next two days. You should rest and enjoy our guests." He told her high-handedly.  
  
She allowed her smile to become as brittle as the glass artwork she loved. "I'm having a tea in the solarium for the Ladies' Aid to the Illiterate tomorrow. If I could cancel, don't you think I would've by now?"  
  
"Your sister will be there. You can make an appearance and then go rest."  
  
"I enjoy the Aid to the Illiterate." Kalasin made a moderately annoyed sound in the back of her throat. "You can't afford to coddle me, and I can't afford to be coddled."  
  
"You're exhausted." The emperor hissed. "It isn't healthy for you to work so hard. Take a few days to rest, so you can be strong again. That's all I ask." He changed tack in mid stride, from ordering to entreating.  
  
Kalasin sighed. "It is kind of you to think of me, but I can't stop completely."  
  
His frustrated sigh softened her expression. He did care, even though he was brusque about expressing it. "I have already canceled everything I can. I'll rest soon, I swear." She assured him. "Soon, I'll have to stay at the palace and not go out to the people at all."  
  
He looked surprised.  
  
She sighed. "I won't endanger the baby by riding over rough roads in a bumpy carriage or on the back of some half-tamed Carthaki horse."  
  
"Half-tamed?" Kaddar pretended affront. "Why, my lady, I'll have you know that Carthaki horses are the finest in the Eastern Lands."  
  
"Perhaps while Buri and my sister are hear they may demonstrate K'miri riding techniques. It's quite different than anything you've seen me do, I assure you." Kalasin said, her tone almost screaming 'I know a secret.'  
  
Kaddar sent her a puzzled glance, before the role of the emperor overtook the concern of the man. The royal couple entered the banquet hall.  
  
TBC  
  
Thank you Tailyn and Quatre-Sama. My first reviewers for a Tamora Pierce story! :)  
  
Tailyn: Thank you for your feedback! I'm love hearing that you think it's "lovely." :) I'm glad you approve of my creative canon interpretation. I don't think Nora will appear directly, but I needed to reconcile it somehow mentally. Sorry if it's confusing. By the way, I read Smaller Stars and it's wonderful! I'm really impressed by your characterizations (Particularly Liam, Alan and Jasson.) You've given them such individuality that I can't wait to read more. Thanks for adding me to your list of favorite stories. I'm touched!  
  
Quatre-Sama: Thank you for your kind words of encouragement! I know it's bitter right now, but I'm going to work on that. I'm glad that you felt it fit the situation. Thanks for the compliments, I'm really glad that you think I'm doing justice to the originals. I've always admired your interpretation of canon and your stories, so thanks again! Hope this chapter lives up to expectations. 


	4. Let Your Hair Down

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 4/?  
  
Author: Kate, k4writer02@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Authors Note: Thanks for reading! I appreciate it.  
  
Ch 4  
  
As Kalasin had predicted, the banquet had lasted for hours, the room had been stifling, and the nobles had been in fine form for criticizing the foreign dignitaries under their breath. But she had been pleasantly surprised that the comparisons between the guests and the empress were entirely favorable to herself! After four years of living among them, the nobles had adopted her into their hearts. She was the jewel of their Court, placed on display to symbolize their nation's superiority over all the Southern lands. They had accepted her.  
  
The crown rested lightly on the dressing table. Kalasin sighed in relief. She had released her hair from the dramatic coiled arrangement that made her neck ache. Ordinarily, a maid would help her, but tonight Kalasin needed to be alone. She had learned to love her new home, but there were nights when the accented voices and the scents of hot food on warm breath and the touch of a maid's skin on her hair was too foreign.  
  
Tonight was on of those nights. Kalasin had washed her own hair, and was now attempting to brush it. It was long, the ends falling past her waist. In the lamplight her hair took on a glossy sheen. As she studied her reflection in the mirror, Kalasin admitted that it was her primary source of vanity. She loved the light, soft weight of it as it tumbled all around her shoulders and rested on her back. She liked the way it rubbed against her arms. When her hair was tumbling down her back like this, she felt closer to the little girl she had been in Tortall.  
  
Kalasin sighed and picked up her comb. She loved her hair, and so she usually didn't resent maintaining it. But tonight, she wanted to simply fall into bed and sleep. Unfortunately, if she did so, she would wake to a matted and tangled mane. As she began, the door to her boudoir swung open. She turned rapidly. This room was her private place. No one, not even Kaddar, entered without knocking. She was ready to rake someone across the coals when she recognized Buri. Her mother's best friend was dressed in a simple white cotton nightgown. Her hair was freshly washed and plaited.  
  
"I thought you could use a hand with that mop." Buri told her lightly. "Here, give me the comb."  
  
Obediently, Kalasin relinquished the instrument of hair care, as she had always done at home.  
  
"Relax." Buri ordered the tense young woman. "I'm not going to ask you any questions tonight. I'll wait till you're ready to tell me."  
  
"You already know?" Kalasin asked dully.  
  
"Not specifics, really. But I read your letters and I knew you weren't happy. Now I see you and you're like a mare that's run too far too fast without stopping for breath or drink."  
  
Kalasin smiled a little. "You're so honest." She murmured. "I miss that."  
  
Buri combed the hair gently. Kalasin made a mumble that sounded like a pleased cat's purr. Buri grinned. "When you were a little girl you loved it when anyone fussed with your hair. You didn't always like to be still, but if I started to brush your hair you would freeze in place till I was done. Your mother used to laugh about it."  
  
"She said that it proved I was part K'mir. I must have horse blood in me, because I was vain enough to stay still to be groomed."  
  
Buri nodded affectionately. "You were such a good girl."  
  
"I liked being the center of attention." Kally yawned, then apologized hastily.  
  
The older woman laughed. "You forget, I survived all six of your mother's pregnancies. I know the stages as well as your father."  
  
Kalasin made a face. "This is normal, then? Being tired all the time?"  
  
"Oh my, yes. If you're anything like Thayet you're probably craving food from home the way a girl whose sweetheart is at war craves news that he's safe."  
  
"That's an interesting metaphor." Kalasin said sleepily. "It's a good one, too."  
  
"I thought so." Buri said. "I've brought potatoes, wild turkey, ingredients for sticky buns, candies and various other little things."  
  
Kalasin sighed in contentment, imagining the meal. "Is Lia settled, then?" She asked.  
  
"She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow." Buri told the younger woman.  
  
"Please give me the news from home." Kalasin asked. "How is Raoul? And my family?"  
  
"Raoul is very well." Buri said. A wistful, loving expression crossed her face. "We're apart too much, with the war and the usual crises like immortals and bandits and raiders, but we're well."  
  
Kalasin's face relaxed into a warm, easy smile. "I love that you're so happy. I still don't believe that you gave up the Riders to Evin Larse, but I'm happy it gave you time to visit."  
  
Buri tugged at a knot in Kally's hair as her answer. "Your father is fine. Strained from the war, pleased that it's ending, but he misses you. Neither of your sisters has been able to fill the spot in his heart that he saves just for you. Your mother stays busy, but she thinks of you very often. She wishes you were nearer, you know."  
  
"I know." Kalasin said, as a lump in her throat choked her.  
  
"Roald and his wife are very happy. They're two of a kind, you know. Quiet and idealistic. Strong, under a soft surface."  
  
"He'll be a very different sort of a king than Father is." Kalasin said. "But I don't think anyone will challenge him."  
  
Buri made no comment. "Liam is well. He won his shield, as you've heard. There're plans for him to go to Galla soon. The king has daughters, as you know. They were affronted when Kaddar chose you instead of one of them. Maybe we can mend things somewhat."  
  
"Daine would be delighted." Kalasin relaxed as Buri competently smoothed the tangles.  
  
"Of course, he could always go to the Copper Isles to meet one of Aly's dear friends, the half-raka half-luarin queen and her sister." Buri smiled a little. "But perhaps we'll save that for Jasson."  
  
Kalasin scrupulously avoided comment. "How is Jasson?"  
  
"Jasson is fine as well." Buri commented. "He keeps your parents guessing. He's lively, but you probably remember that."  
  
"He never would stay still for a minute all together." Kalasin remembered fondly. "I know all about Lia. Tell me about Nora."  
  
Buri's lips thinned. "You know I love all of you."  
  
"Yes." Kalasin woke up a little. "There's a but there, isn't there?"  
  
"Yes. I love Nora, but she's gone wild. Lianne probably told you she's at Naxen visiting the Duke."  
  
"She did."  
  
"Did she tell you why?"  
  
"Nora played pranks?"  
  
"She ruined negotiations for a marriage treaty between Tortall and Tyra. Years of work, undone in a single day." Buri sighed. "I know why she didn't want to marry the lad. He is a pompous ass."  
  
Kalasin muffled a laugh.  
  
"But she should've trusted your parents and Gary to redirect the offer politely." Buri reached for a towel and absorbed some of the moisture from Kalasin's hair. She ran the comb through again, then divided the hair and began to competently plait the hair. "None of them would ever send you to a place where they know you have no chance at happiness."  
  
Kalasin observed, "The problem with Nora being brilliant is that she assumes everyone else is stupid."  
  
Buri pressed her lips into a thin line. "I love the girl, but she's well and truly messed that treaty up for us."  
  
"Lia thinks that Nora will choose her own husband from Tortall's nobles and settle at court to do the duties of prime minister for Roald." Kalasin confided, rolling her shoulders to ease some of the tension from her stiff muscles.  
  
Buri shook her head. "Perhaps that is where Nora's hopes lie. But your parents have plans for her. It's not good policy to have two siblings so close to the throne with so much knowledge. Gives even the best of them ideas."  
  
Kalasin shivered. "Nora would never try to usurp the throne from Roald."  
  
"Are you so sure?" Buri asked cynically. Kalasin bit her lip in dismay. Buri saw how much her words had distressed Kalasin. "Shh, little one, I speak as a warrior used to looking for the worst from powerful nobles. Your sister is a good girl, who loves her home. The only thing that could ever happen would be if she started thinking she knew best. But she won't do that while Gary and his father and your parents are around, so you can calm yourself. I'm just angry that so much work was ruined so quickly." Buri smiled. "You spoiled us you know. You went so quietly. Not a protest, not a tear."  
  
"I froze." Kally confessed. "I turned into a block of ice, when I heard the news."  
  
Buri caressed the younger woman's scalp. "Were you frightened?" She inquired.  
  
"Yes, and no. Mother and father gave me plenty to worry about with their discussions of duty and honor and the role of the nobility. Mother was honest about how hard it is to be perceived as a foreigner in the land you chose as your own." Kalasin lifted her fingers to rub over the plaited hair. "But mostly I was frightened about Kaddar."  
  
"Because you didn't know him?"  
  
"Because I didn't know him, and Daine was so fond of him, and he is so much older than me." Kalasin hesitated. "I came here an innocent."  
  
Buri read between the lines and realized Kalasin meant she came to the empire a virgin.  
  
"I knew he had experiences I did not. I was afraid that I might-," She hesitated, blushing badly "Disappoint him."  
  
"But you learned love together?" Buri asked matter-of-factly, twisting some of Kalasin's hair.  
  
"He was very kind to me. Very gentle." Kalasin reassured Buri with a blush and lowered eyes.  
  
"What about administering to the nation?"  
  
"I knew all the theory, but I had so little practice." Kalasin said ruefully. "I was with the Countess at King's Reach for years. I was so idealistic. I wanted to rush in and free every slave, teach every man woman and child to read and to write, teach women the basics of defending themselves against assailants. . ." Kalasin trailed off.  
  
"You've started schools, the emperor tells me, and you've freed many slaves and prisoners."  
  
"It was wrong that they were imprisoned because they could not pay their debts." Kalasin said simply. "And I've reminded the priestesses of the Great Mother to arm themselves. They teach classes, to those who are interested. I require it of all the maids."  
  
"So enlightened." Buri clucked, remembering a talk she had with Kel a few years back about girl Riders who trained common women to defend themselves.  
  
"I haven't started a version of the Riders yet, but I have no one to pawn off the work of training to. No Onua to find ponies, no Sarge to bellow, no Evin to laugh while he does everything else."  
  
Buri laughed in delight. The young, sweet princess couldn't have said anything so close to bitter. "Soon enough, little one. You're making great strides here. Even the nobles look at you now and see one of their own."  
  
Kalasin smiled wistfully. "I've worked so hard, and there's still so far to go." Her exhaustion wrenched the words from her. "It's hard to keep hoping, when no one even sees what I do or why I do it, and I can't tell if I'm getting anywhere or going in circles."  
  
Buri sat beside Kally on the low bench that sat before the empress's vanity table. The older woman wrapped an arm around her surrogate daughter. Kalasin turned her face to rest against the stocky K'mir's shoulder. Tears leaked out of the tightly shut eyes.  
  
Buri simply sat, and let the storm of emotions calm. Kalasin sniffled. "What else did Kaddar tell you?"  
  
"That you've been very careful to send only reports of good news home."  
  
Kalasin dried her eyes with a handkerchief. "Oh, well, that. Yes, maybe. But I didn't want Mother angry at Father when neither of them can change a thing now."  
  
Buri shook her head. "He mentioned that Chavi's gone. If you'd told us, we would've sent you another one of Moonlight and Darkness's descendants."  
  
Kalasin nodded, feeling safe. "It wasn't necessary. She left a lovely little filly. Dian." Kalasin reached for a dab of cream and rubbed it into her hands.  
  
"The opposite happened to you, didn't it?" Buri asked, stabbing with a question. "Chavi left a foal. You lost the little one, and were left behind."  
  
Kalasin pulled back angrily. She stood and backed away from the velvet covered bench and vanity where Buri sat. "Did he tell you that too?" Bitterness and betrayal filled every lines of her body. "He had no right. It was my secret to keep."  
  
"We all knew something terrible had happened. We worried when your letters turned so dark and pained." Buri said. "Why didn't you tell us? Did you think we couldn't understand?"  
  
"Some things live down so deep in the heart, that to share them is to blaspheme them." Kalasin fumbled under the familiar gaze. Buri's expression of sympathetic curiosity did not change. The younger woman turned away. "When a thing hurts that bad, there are no words." Kalasin finally said. The empress was standing alone, back to the person who had been the first to hold her after her birth. "No words to explain it, no words to comfort it, no words to fill it or fix it or make it hurt less. No words at all." She covered her face, and her shoulders began to shake.  
  
Buri stood, and crossed the room in order to gather the tearful empress into her strong motherly embrace. She cuddled the girl and wished desperately that she could ease Kalasin's pain. Thayet would've known what to say to her daughter, but Buri did not. So she settled for actions that were louder than words, the strong familiar embrace and the dabbing of tears with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry." Buri finally said. "I should've waited to ask you about it."  
  
"Are you going to tell Mother?" Kalasin squeaked.  
  
"She would have words for you." Buri said. "She lost a baby too, you know." Kalasin made a disbelieving noise. Buri nodded in confirmation. "Between you and Liam."  
  
Kalasin blinked. "I didn't know." She whispered.  
  
"Thayet didn't want people to know." Buri explained gently. "The hurt went too deep for her to put it in words."  
  
"After...you know, after it happened I didn't want to live. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't care about how I looked or the state of the nation. All I could think about was this huge empty place inside me." Kalasin was ashamed as she said it. "Kaddar was so good to me. He helped me to go on."  
  
Buri nodded, tucking the information away for later.  
  
Kalasin made a sigh that was actually a deep breath to control her turbulent emotion. "He showed me that he cared too, but he also made me see that the country still needed us." Convulsively, Kally touched her belly. "I thought I had learned how to live with the loss, but then I got pregnant again and I am so afraid. When I am a mother, will I be able to give my child any kind of life, any kind of love, or will I be too tangled up in being afraid for his life?"  
  
"Your mother had the same fears, and all six of you turned out rather nicely." Buri sighed. "I guarded your body, and your brothers and sisters. I watched your minds and souls grow, but I don't have answers for you. Right now, you need a warm drink, and then you need your bed."  
  
Kally made a hysterical sound and sat on the velvet vanity bench. "Good luck finding anything soothing around here. Everything's spiced so it's hotter than the marketplace at midday."  
  
"Well, that we can fix." Buri said. "Lianne has a full skin of that juice you used to like."  
  
"Don't wake her." Kalasin protested. "She's had a long day today and tomorrow's set to be a nightmare."  
  
Buri looked exasperated. "You never think that sometimes people like to be troubled on your account? That it lets us show how we love you?"  
  
Kalasin shook her head. "The baby just has me a little crazy. I feel everything so much, so strong, and all day I hold it in and I am regal and serene and I make choices and everyone knows that I'm right because I'm the empress, but in the darkest hour of the night I don't know if I'm right, I don't know if I'm making any difference at all and it's so hard to see. But it does help to have someone to talk to." She tried to temper the hopelessness of her words by gentling it.  
  
Buri was not amused. "No one can answer those questions for you." She admitted. "But talk to your husband. Maybe he'd like to hear that you're not quite as perfect as you seem. Maybe he's not always as sure of himself as he likes to seem."  
  
Kalasin nodded. "Thank you, Buri." She raised her eyes to meet Buri's steady gaze. "I know I seem like I'm a mess, but I am so happy to see you."  
  
"And I you, little one." Buri came closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of Kalasin's head. "Sleep, and in the morning this may seem like a nasty dream."  
  
The women left Kalasin's boudoir to enter the main room of her suite, where the empress had met with her sister earlier that day. "In the morning, then." Kalasin bid her surrogate mother farewell and sought the comfort of her bed.  
  
Are there any suggestions for a name for the baby?  
  
Lady Silveramord: Wow! Thank you for your generous and gracious reviews. I'm thrilled that you like my story so much, and that you're continuing to read it. Your suggestions have given me plenty of ideas for the rest of the story—never fear, I will continue, though it may take longer than I'd like. Real life unfortunately interferes with writing fan fiction, but I will try to update more frequently. Thanks for liking the characters and caring about their dilemmas, and thank you for reading!  
  
Merit Somnia: Thanks for your feedback! I'm pleased that you think the story is realistic. Thank you for saying that it's different than other stories. I'm always thrilled to hear that I'm original. Thanks for reading.  
  
Now, to anyone else: thanks for reading! 


	5. Soon to Be Grandparents

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 5/?  
  
Author: Kate,   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the long delay with this chapter. When I last posted in March, I was in the middle of an intense semester that led to a really tough April and May. I thought that when I came home for the summer I would be able to write and update immediately, but I have begun work at a full time job. Real life isn't an adequate excuse, and I apologize sincerely for the long delay. Let me extend my thanks to those who remained loyal readers, especially Lady Silvamord. Her encouragement reminded me that someone is reading. I promise that in the future, updates will be more frequent. Thanks for bearing with me.  
  
Ch 5  
  
Queen Thayet sat on her throne, at the right hand of her husband and co- monarch Jonathan IV of Conté. The queen's posture was impeccable, her gown simple but exquisite and her face was as lovely as ever. Age had not destroyed her beauty, but added wisdom to the strength, pride and humor.  
  
Yet there was something different about the queen on this day. Usually, on the last day of the festival of Mithros, the queen was inclined to kindness to those who brought grievances before her. But today, though the queen listened with steady attention, her answers were less sympathetic than in years past. Something was troubling the noble lady, and though she had not denied anyone justice, those who knew her best felt that something was missing.  
  
The evening bells rang, and a recess was announced. When the last subject had filed out of the room, Jonathan set aside his scepter. "Thayet, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." His queen said sheepishly. She rubbed her neck, which was stiff from being held in one position for so long.  
  
"You usually enjoy these days." Jon observed. "You like setting things right without interference."  
  
Thayet sighed. "It's been six days. We should've had a letter by now, telling us that they've arrived safely in Carthak." She confessed her concern in a low tone.  
  
Jon reached out to massage Thayet's stiff neck and shoulders. "But I looked in the fire last night and we saw that they were all at a feast. You know they're fine. Admit it, there's something else troubling you."  
  
Thayet sighed, as the Prime Minister approached with a stack of documents, a pitcher of liquid, and a loaf of bread. "George arrived last night, with Aly. I heard her tale from her own lips, and it's been troubling me."  
  
"The Copper Isles?" Gary was instantly alert. "What about them? A flaw in the new regime? Think Aly should've stayed on? Want Liam to skip Galla and go to court a half-raka half-luarin queen?"  
  
"Nothing political." Thayet reassured them. "Just," She paused. "You remember, George mentioned dream visions? Aly told me that in one of them she saw Kalasin, and that she was in great need."  
  
Jonathan tensed. "Why didn't she say so immediately?" His quiet anger was apparent to the two who knew him best. "We should've been alerted, so we could dispatch a force."  
  
Thayet sighed. "Aly couldn't say in need of what, or when it was, or anything of the sort. Just that Kalasin needed something or someone and couldn't find it or get it. And I think about her, so far away and so lonely."  
  
"You think she's lonely?" Gary asked in genuine surprise, chewing a mouthful of bread.  
  
"I know it. I was lonely here, and I had Buri and Alanna and you and then Kuri and Onua." Thayet thought for a moment, trying to reassure them about her own frame of mind without detracting from her daughter's plight. "I had nothing to go back to, no one to miss but the past. Kalasin brought nothing but a horse and her clothes, but she left behind five siblings, two parents and a host of extended family."  
  
"She had paintings and books and homey things like midwinter gifts and birthday charms." Gary tried to reassure his friend, feeling the insufficiency of his words as he spoke.  
  
"Things aren't people." Thayet said simply. "And you've read her letters, how dark they were for a time."  
  
Jon sighed. "Think of it this way. She's well clothed and well fed. She has a fine roof over her head and people around her to protect her. It's more than some of our refugees."  
  
Thayet turned away from him. "As you say." Her voice was muffled, but Gary knew he would never want Cythera to speak to him in that tone.  
  
"Thayet, do you think I don't hate it too?" Jon hissed. "Do you think there aren't days when I want to send a fast ship and bring her home to play dolls with her sisters and learn healing from Duke Baird and perform riding stunts that stop my heart to watch?"  
  
"You don't react when the boys do those riding tricks." Thayet picked up an ancient grievance between them.  
  
"I was a boy. I know that even when we break we heal." Jon nodded at Gary. "Ask him. We spent half our lives in pieces."  
  
"Alanna healed."  
  
"The hand of the Goddess is on her, and even then she broke her collarbone, bruised and bloodied her body, overused her magic, and was left an inch shy of death every chance she got."  
  
"You just can't stand to see your little girls in pain." Thayet accused.  
  
"Does that make me such a bad person then?" Jonathan demanded of his queen. "That I would protect my daughters from harm?"  
  
Gary barely restrained himself from flinching away. This was the kind of argument he hadn't seen since Jon dissuaded his eldest daughter from pursuing a career as a knight. Thayet had labeled him a hypocrite in the heat of anger. If it were too dangerous for Kalasin to be a knight, why was Roald training to be one? Jonathan had agreed to raise their children, male and female, with equal opportunities, but his actions contradicted his promises.  
  
"If it's too dangerous for a daughter, why is it safe enough for a son?" Thayet huffed. "I know you want the best for them. It's just that they're stronger than you know. And they have so much faith in you that if you treat them as though they are weaker or less worthy than their brothers, they will begin to believe they are weaker or less worthy."  
  
Jon swallowed. So many strong women surrounded him. Those strong willed women acted as role models for his precious daughters. He disliked considering that his protectiveness would harm them. "Thayet, if I could, I would pack each and every one of my children in cotton wool. If I could get the parents in other countries to agree, I would burn all arrows and bows, melt down swords and glaives and weapons into farmer's plows and live in a world where killing is totally unnecessary."  
  
Gary snorted. "Alanna would skewer you before you took her sword." He said, trying to break the tension. "It's a pipedream, Jon."  
  
Jon made a face at his cousin. "But we live in a real world, my love, and who are we to stop them?"  
  
Thayet sighed. "I just want them all to have equal opportunities."  
  
A small side door opened, and the Baron of Pirate's Swoop ambled in as easily as if he were king. "The first of the reports from Buri and Lianne are in. I thought it mind set your Majesties at ease." He produced a packet of letters from his sleeve with a sleight of hand trick long left over from his days as a thief.  
  
Thayet eagerly took the missive written in Buri's hand, while Jon broke the seal on Lianne's letter. Gary concentrated on the food, which he shared with his old friend. The queen skimmed the coded letter from her erst- while bodyguard, searching for news of Kalasin.  
  
George crossed back easily, watching the parents but concentrating on the queen. "I've some idea of what you suffer." He murmured to Thayet, as she looked up from the letter blinking tears. "When Aly was missing I felt as though my breath had been stolen from me."  
  
"And after you found her?" Thayet's voice was rusty.  
  
"Then it was like waiting for my heart to beat, to know whether the lass was alright or in trouble." George said. "But your Kalasin is clever as she needs to be, with a heart big enough to hold even Carthak."  
  
Thayet returned to the letter to read with more detail, pausing only for a puzzling bit at the end. It was a few sentences in a code she remembered from life in Sarain. It was one Thayet and Buri had learned from their K'miri mothers. It was a language as old as horses and wind, and it took work for Thayet to assemble meaning from the words. When she had finally assembled the meaning, she gasped. Color drained from her face, and she leaned forward, making a pained noise.  
  
Jon tossed away the letter and grabbed his wife's hand. Gary filled a cup with wine and pressed it into Thayet's hand. She drained it without knowing what she drank, then began to whisper an ancient prayer for healing and peace.  
  
Gary gave the queen a concerned look. "Should I fetch a healer?" He asked, feeling helpless as a page in the face of a spidren.  
  
"I am a healer." Jon snapped.  
  
"What news?" George asked. His voice was laconic, but his body had tensed almost imperceptibly.  
  
"Jon, do you remember how her letters were? And what happened to me between Kally and Liam?" Thayet choked. "It's the same."  
  
Unwillingly, Jon's eyes teared. "Why didn't we know this sooner?" He confronted George, covering sorrow with anger.  
  
The spy met his king's eye. "The knowledge was confined to the mage who cast the spell that killed the child, the emperor and the healers."  
  
"But you knew." Thayet accused, anger and betrayal clouding her eyes.  
  
"It's treason to keep secrets like that." Gary said, sardonically, because there were many secrets among the four there gathered.  
  
"I visited Carthak, after I went to see Aly in the Copper Isles." He told the queen, king, and Prime Minister. "I pried the knowledge out of the healer, but no one else did. She had silencing spells on her that were Kally's work—much improved from the days when she and Thom and Roald snitched jam tarts from the cook and spelled her not to tell."  
  
Jon's anger did not waver.  
  
"I asked the emperor about it, and he told me that after losing the little one, Kally went through a rough spell where getting out of bed in the morning was an accomplishment. The thing that kept her going was keeping it secret. She thought Your Majesties might quarrel over it, and she couldn't bear such a thought." George met their eyes. "And what could you have done for it or her? Send the Wildmage to awaken the child in her womb as she did with Kitten and Skysong?"  
  
"If Aly had conceived and lost her child while she was far away, and I had that knowledge, what would you have done if I had kept it from you?" Jonathan asked.  
  
George bowed his head only, in a gesture that was more nod than obeisance. "I would be as angry as you are now." He agreed. "But think of it this way: your child loved you so that she wanted to protect you the same way she's used to being protected."  
  
Gary sighed. "Jon, you'd have gone out of your mind. Thayet, you'd have blamed him and flown off the handle, and the rest of us would've broken our hearts. But look at it this way: now she's six months along and Buri is between trouble and her."  
  
"It's not right." Thayet stood, and looked George in the eye. "It's not right that I didn't know."  
  
"No." George met her eyes. "It's not. But examine me. There were silencing spells on me as well, set to break only after you learned the truth. I allowed them because it was for the best, but I'll take the consequences."  
  
Jonathan bathed George in blue light, then nodded. "True enough. It's just a thread, but he can't consciously string together the sentence 'Kalasin miscarried' or variations with synonyms."  
  
"It's not right." Thayet repeated. She was a strong woman, but this news left her dizzy.  
  
"How would you have helped her?" Gary asked, reasonably.  
  
"I would've explained what happened to me, that's all." Thayet wavered, then sat again. "I just can't believe that something that big could happen to her without me knowing it or feeling it somehow. It's like I failed."  
  
"I'm the Voice of the Tribes. I touch her once a week and I didn't know." Jonathan sighed.  
  
George took Thayet's pretty hand and kissed the back of it. "I've sent her odds and bits from here and there. Sand from the Swoop, dirt from the forest. She wants to have Tortall always with her."  
  
Jon rubbed his wife's back. "You'll be able to see the name-day, anyway. That's something." He told her. Over the years, their marriage worked because they were partners in everything they did. He gave her the freedom to be who she was. He hadn't been angry over the infamous pink tissue dress incident, had been amused but indignant on her behalf at the monkey menagerie conspiracy, had laughed with her. But he stayed home and did administration while she spent wild summers training the Riders and Queen's Ladies. She had finally given up the Riders to Buri and devoted herself to being Queen for the Progress and her growing children. Though Thayet was not yet old, she was no longer young either. She would wield a weapon until the day she died, but she was more content to do so at her husband's side.  
  
"It's not enough." Thayet said.  
  
"No, but it is something." George said. "And just think, you'll be there in the flesh. You'll be able to talk to her and hold the baby and calm and comfort them both."  
  
Thayet shook her head. Three men trying to console a mother for separation from her daughter and the loss of a grandchild she never knew. "It's just that there literally are no words for that kind of pain. A woman who loses her husband is a widow. A child who loses its parents is an orphan. But there is no word that means a parent who lost a child. It is, quite simply, unspeakable pain."  
  
Jon simply touched his wife, letting her lean into him. Their marriage worked because they could share strength. "Lianne sounds happy, though. I don't think she knows yet."  
  
"What does her letter say?"  
  
"Kalasin is bone-tired and works much too hard, but Carthak is reforming. They love her in their own way, and producing an heir might just convince the holdouts. She seems to love Kaddar. They have a good, solid marriage. They respect each other, but they are still a bit stiff and formal. She thinks that Kalasin's life would improve a hundred times if she and Kaddar could be friends as well as respectful partners. Right now they still keep a distance between them." Jon shrugged. "And according to our youngest girl, Kally eats potatoes like she hasn't seen them in five years. I wonder where she came by that trait."  
  
Thayet had to smile. "I'll be sure to bring more with me when I go down. I never would've thought she would be so attached to that food, anyway. I mean, as a K'mir she really should be fond of rice."  
  
"Lianne's happy though?" Gary interrupted. "She's been drooping about here ever since she came back from the visit to the Maren court."  
  
"I think she likes having a break from our critical eyes. Buri's sharp, but she doesn't watch every second for slips." Jon guessed. "I thought I understood women until I had daughters ready to marry."  
  
Thayet's lips twitched. "George, if you happen to see your son, make sure to mention that the princess arrived safe in Carthak."  
  
"Wasn't part of the point of the visit to separate those two?" Gary asked, as he delicately picked through a fruit bowl.  
  
George shrugged. "If you're worried about my lads and your lasses, it's the brainy daughter and the scholar son I'd watch. Nora has plots and plans for the country and for Thom, mark my words."  
  
"I thought Nora was flirting with Alan?" Jon asked, looking honestly confused. Had it really been so long since he and Gary were participating in the social rituals of balls and flirtations?  
  
"As a cover, so she could flirt with Thom." Thayet said. "Though I think the cover did fool Lianne. Which leads to a good point. Are we going to arrange marriages outside of Tortall for all of our children?"  
  
Jon sighed. "Well, Nora won't really permit it, will she? Maybe we could send her to a convent to be a daughter of the Goddess for a while."  
  
Gary smirked. "She's too old and set in her ways. They won't take her now."  
  
"What news does your father send us?" Thayet asked.  
  
"Just that it's a delight to have a lively young person clattering through Naxen again." Gary finally held up a plum. "This from Olau?"  
  
"Yes, Myles sent sacks of the best from his orchard." George replied. "I'm not a noble born, but if you'll let me make an observation?"  
  
"George, there's no need for that kind of formality when it's just us. What do you think?" Thayet asked, solemn eyes meeting solemn eyes.  
  
"It's all well and good to make peace with our neighbors, but it wouldn't harm anything to make some peace at home. For the most part, Tortallans are open-minded folks. They don't always treat the Bazhir as they should, maybe, but they're not often cruel to foreign folk. Yet if you set up alliances with the Yamani Isles, Carthak, Galla, the Copper Isles, Maren and Tyra, folks are going to start to wonder what's wrong with the folks in our own country. I'm not saying Nora should marry my Thom—may the gods help us all if she do. And I'm not saying that sweet Lia ought to wed one of my lads, for all that she got so fond of Alan while they were in Maren. But if the girls are in love with some young fellow of the Court, what harm if one or two ally themselves with noble houses within these borders?"  
  
Jon rubbed his face. "You're right." He mumbled. "I've concentrated so much on foreign affairs I hadn't thought that people might wonder what's wrong with Tortall."  
  
Gary nodded. "There's a logic to it when you say it like that. I just never heard anyone process it that way before."  
  
"Then you, my lads, don't spend enough time in inns and bars mingling with the common folks." George teased.  
  
"With my face on every coin, I don't think that's a good idea." Jon said simply.  
  
"Me? I don't leave the palace anymore unless my wife reminds me." Gary grinned after he swallowed the last of the plum.  
  
Thayet shook her head. "So, Alan to Lianne." She said, nodding as if terms had been drawn and signed. "But what about Nora?"  
  
"I think that directing some of her considerable energy toward studying Maren would be a wise way to go." Jon said thoughtfully. "We'll ask her to research it on her sister's behalf. If we're lucky, and I have a feeling we may well be, she'll become fascinated with the country. If she falls in love with the place, then she'll agree to marry the young prince Lia didn't particularly like, even if he is a bit thick."  
  
"Jon, do you really think she could be happy like that?" Thayet protested.  
  
"Nora is happiest when she has a finger in every pie." Gary pronounced. "Lia told us that if she marries the Maren man, he'll retreat to the library and leave her to run the country. Nora would be in her element with such a large prosperous country."  
  
"Well, anyway, it's an idea." George said. "Just ask her to study it. Send her a few books. If she likes it, she'll ask for more. If she doesn't, we think of another idea."  
  
"Very sensible. Thank you, George." Thayet stood and shook out her skirt. "Now, we have thirty minutes to get to the temple of Mithros to close this festival. Then, we must write letters to Buri and Lianne and Kalasin. Have we a courier worthy of trust?"  
  
"I mistrust that gleam in your eye, my lady." George said. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"Why don't we ask Raoul to take the letters to his wife? Raoul and his godson, his soon-to-be squire?" Thayet grinned.  
  
Gary sighed. "It's official. She's begun to scheme and match make. The Gods help us all, before you know it she'll be introducing my son to some little lass and signing a marriage contract when my back is turned."  
  
"Oh, stop exaggerating. Fifteen is plenty old enough for a romance, even if it is a bit young for a wedding." Thayet said.  
  
"Who were you having a romance with at fifteen?" Jon teased his wife.  
  
"Oh, you don't have to mind that." She grinned. "Besides, I've heard all about the romantic escapades of your youths." The queen sailed out of the room, still clutching Buri's letter.  
  
"At least I know she won't put a frog in my bed over this." Jon commented to Gary. "It's her bed too, so it would be like punishing herself."  
  
"Sire, if I were you, I would still sleep elsewhere tonight." Gary told his old friend. "Come on now George, what's the news with Aly?"  
  
"My lass brought that blasted crow home from the Copper Isles and I'll never know a moment's peace until her mother either blows up at it or says hello like a kind woman." George adopted the mannerisms of a Player and sighed deeply. "It's really a shame that you can't freeze children at the age of say, seven and keep them loving and lovable forever."  
  
Gary grimaced. He adored his own children, especially his little girls. "Maybe we should ask Numair to research that." He joked.  
  
"It's too late now." Jon mumbled. "That I should live to see the day when my children court your children." He shook his head. "That's even more frightening than watching Lianne practice that stunt riding she's so fond of. When did we grow old?"  
  
"Speak for yourself. At heart I'm still the same age as I ever was. It's just this body that appears older." Gary said. "We better follow her. Time to end the festival of Mithros and justice for the year."  
  
Jon stood and squared his shoulders. "Thanks for getting the news here George." The king looked embarrassed. "And I am sorry that I spoke the way I did about your handling of Kalasin's troubles. It's just—I still think of her as the little pigtailed girl who followed Roald as though he were the sun and moon. It's hard to think of her as a wife and mother, because I wasn't there to see it happen. So I tend to overreact to bad news about her. I do apologize though."  
  
"Lad, I've known you since you were a young sprite. I knew how you would react to this news and I don't blame ye. Now go and do your duty. Since the silencing spell is broken I can talk about the lass a bit more, later."  
  
"Thank you." Jon said. He executed a crisp bow, turned and left the room. Gary bid George farewell more casually, trotting to keep up with the king. George sat at the table and gathered up Lianne's letter, smiling slightly. So there may yet be a chance for Alan to be happy. With Thayet on the side of the princess and the squire, there was a chance indeed. The father smiled, allowing himself a momentary daydream about a future filled with grandchildren and lazy days at the Swoop with his Lioness.  
  
Notes to individual reviewers:  
  
Jowa-Thank you so much for the compliment. I'm glad you like my writing. And "original idea"—my goodness, I'm blushing. :) I'm sorry I didn't update so quickly, but now that should improve.  
  
Trickster666-Thank you for the compliments and the name suggestions! They're very well thought out and the website was helpful. I don't know how long I'll keep it going, but this is not the end. I promise at least three more chapters and a related vignette. I'm really glad you're enjoying this. Thanks for saying you're enjoying my writing style and the way I think out the characters. I'm honored that you think so.  
  
Starrika-Thank you for the compliment about characterization. It's one of the areas I think about a lot as a writer, so I'm glad I'm succeeding.  
  
Lady Silvamord—Wow!! You are my best reviewer. I'm sorry the update was so long in coming, but THANK YOU for your persistence and interest in this story. Thanks for the name and twin suggestion too. All I can say is "we'll see." I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 4. I'm sorry Kalasin and Kaddar aren't in chapter 5, but they didn't want to come out to play until chapter 6. You're right, Kalasin does have a streak of mischief in her. It hasn't shown itself lately because she's had her company face and manners on for four years straight. Don't worry, her sister will help her remember how to relax. Lianne's going to make it her mission to help Kalasin and Kaddar stop being polite to each other all the time and have some fun. Thank you again for your encouragement. 


	6. Somewhere in the Night

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 6/?  
  
Author: Kate,   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Ch 6  
  
Kalasin lay on the bed, rigid and silent. She scarcely breathed, afraid that the movement of her chest would cause cloth on her body or the bed to rustle and wake her husband. It was late at night or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it. The Emperor and Empress were sleeping in a bed in the home of his mother, the Princess Fazia.  
  
That night Fazia had sponsored her yearly party for the Imperial University mages and scholars. Kaddar, a scholar at heart, loved these evenings when he could chat with former teachers with relative freedom and debate the finer points of philosophy. Kalasin enjoyed the company as well, truth be told. She could converse intelligently about healing spells, some aspects of the Gift and magical theory. But when the conversations turned to obscure and arcane philosophers, historical figures and Carthaki geology, she always felt vaguely self-conscious and aware of her foreign born status.  
  
Invitations were extended to Buri and Lianne, but the two women had politely declined, citing the fact that neither possessed the Gift, and that they spent quite enough time with mages in Tortall. Though they did not say it, they were both sick of parties. They'd been in Carthak for a solid month, but the time was a blur of finery and food and faces and titles.  
  
Buri and Lianne had developed deeper and more profound respect for Kalasin's professional life. She had lived through four years of the constant parties and heat without collapsing. She had only wavered in performing the social side of her duties once, yet her reign had not been limited to pleasantries with nobles. She was reforming the practices of slavery, the conditions of prisoners, the widespread illiteracy and ignorance of the commoners in her realm.  
  
After a week of it, Buri had decided that it was no wonder that Kalasin had suffered a collapse after her miscarriage. The pace of parties and decisions and unraveling what mattered and what didn't was inhuman and impossible to maintain. After a month, Buri and Lianne were grateful for a night off to sit in their suite and write letters home and compare observations of the glittering Southern Lands.  
  
So Kalasin and Kaddar had attended his mother's party alone. Because they expected it to go late, they planned to sleep over at his mother's house. Kalasin always made an effort to be a good guest and enjoy the company, but at seven months pregnant it was getting harder and harder to enjoy any activity that required standing for long periods of time.  
  
Then again, tonight she had caused a stir among ladies who noticed such things by wearing soft, flat-heeled cushioned slippers and a thin, cool embroidered silk gown and only two items of jewelry. A seemingly dainty magicked girdle/belt protected her from the sendings of lesser mages while the silver and sapphire brooch did double duty as a poison neutralizer and clasp for the front of her dress. Due to the pregnancy, her modest bosom had grown. She had always had an attractive figure, but her natural build was slender. She now possessed voluptuous curves and a rounded belly. Tonight, she had eschewed rings, necklaces, crowns, earrings, bracelets, anklets and bangles.  
  
True, her buttons were black opal and served as reserves where she stored magical power, should an ambush occur, but the buttons were nearly weightless. She had worn her hair simply in an upsweep that exposed and emphasized her pale neck and cleavage. For a formal occasion, her dress was shockingly casual. It looked beautiful and there was no way to deny it, but for a party at her mother-in-law's such garb was unheard of.  
  
The maid who helped Kalasin get dressed thought that the midnight blue gown was a shift, not the actual dress. She had become worried when Kalasin simply pinned up the long ebony tresses instead of using hot irons and papers to curl and dress the hair. By the time Kalasin was supposed to descend the stair and enter the party, the maid was hysterical. The Empress still hadn't sent for jewels or a brocaded dress. In her costume, there was no mark to distinguish her from any common merchant's woman! When the maid had finally found her tongue and reminded Kalasin that such things were not done in the Empire, she had almost lost it when the Empress leveled a cool stare at her. "What am I doing that is so shocking, Klyta?"  
  
At any other time, the maid would have wondered how the Empress of Carthak knew the name of a simple lady's maid. But at that moment, Klyta simply said, "It's not decent for a nobility like yourself to dress like just anybody. I mistook your ball gown for a dressing gown, rich as the silk is. And even peasants wear rings and beads to show their status." The maid cringed, but since she had started, she may as well finish.  
  
"Only slaves wear no jewelry, saving iron shackles. Women wear their husbands' wealth to show their good position. A husband who values his wife tells the world by rewarding her with gold and silver and gems. Only slaves or those who are too mean or cheap to care for their women properly let them run around without even a nose button. And the Empress of Carthak shouldn't run around like a slave, if my lady will pardon my saying it."  
  
Kalasin had smiled at the girl. It took a great deal of courage for one of her class to stand up to one of Kalasin's status. Though the girl could just be mad or hysterical, maybe Kalasin's informality with her own servants was starting to rub off. "I wear my royalty and my husband's regard for all to see." Kalasin stood, and she did look rather regal in her midnight blue silk gown. "The buttons on this dress are black opal, and the brooch was a gift from my lord. The embroidery along the hem is our crest." She caressed her child through the gown. "And I need not mention the other way his regard is shown to the world." Kalasin smiled at the girl. "This child who sleeps in my skin is worth more than any jewel for showing how my husband loves me. Though I thank you for your explanation of the custom. Now, I must go to my lord." Kalasin pressed a coin into Klyta's palm in payment for her service. She left the maid shaking in wonder at her own boldness. No one would ever believe that the maid had spoken to her Empress as she would speak to one of her sisters-in-law and lived.  
  
Though Kalasin had made a fine speech, the truth was that she was simply too hot and tired to bother with the elaborate rituals of preparation. The empress had decided that since Fazia was going to treat her daughter-in-law as a northern barbarian even when said daughter-in-law wore Carthaki clothes, Kalasin might as well be comfortable while she was subjected to such treatment. And she had been comfortable. She had enjoyed this party more than any other in recent memory. She drank only the sweet fruit juice that she knew she liked, since Varice was not there with some elaborate new concoction for the Empress to try. She nibbled lightly on the crackers and fruits scattered around. She sat when she was tired and because she was not the hostess she didn't keep a wary eye on how full drinks were or how often they were refilled. In short, she enjoyed the company and the physical comfort of shoes that didn't pinch.  
  
In remembering her speech to the maid, Kalasin cringed. The story had been heard and repeated throughout the gathering, and though the context was lost in its first telling, Kalasin was quite sure that everyone in the palace had heard that the Empress valued her child and her husband's regard above gold and diamonds. (Though Kalasin had no way of knowing it, a version of the story would survive thousands of years and inspire painters and playwrights to show the beautiful lady of Carthak as a paragon of female virtue, who valued her children more than her jewels.)  
  
But in the meanwhile, Kalasin lay in an unfamiliar bed, uncomfortably aware of the pressure her pregnancy put on her bladder. The night was steaming and she missed the artificial chill of her usual bedchamber. She needed to visit the privy, but she couldn't remember exactly where it was. And if she moved, then Kaddar would awake and there would be awkward moments as she tried to find a delicate way to explain that the Empress needed to relieve herself. He had already teased her for being crude enough to reference the act of creating a child as a sign of his regard. Though they had laughed over it together, Kalasin was still embarrassed to admit to her husband that pregnancy greatly increased her awareness of herself as a physical being. Though she was too well mannered to discuss bodily functions with her husband, good manners didn't not banish basic human needs.  
  
The baby and extra matter on her front crushed her like a weight. Her lungs labored to breathe the cloying humid air. At last, she could no longer stand the discomfort. Moving smoothly and nearly silently, she slid out of the side of the bed and put her feet on the cool marble. She resolved to watch her step—in the heat, the marble was sweating minutely. Kalasin stripped off her sweat-soaked shift and pulled a clean one over her head. She grabbed a robe and ghosted through the halls till she found the privy.  
  
Leaving the room, she instantly felt better. Kalasin located the kitchen, which was silent and haunted with the remains of the party. She poured a small glass of fruit juice and chased the taste of sleep from her mouth with the tart sweetness of the liquid. Kalasin left the drinking vessel with the other dirty dishes and trailed back to the privy once more. She drifted silently through the halls, hoping not to wake any of the servants or party guests. Given the number of empty wine skins in the kitchen, she doubted that the guests would be aware of much, but Buri had instilled caution in all the Conté children.  
  
The door to the bedchamber she and Kaddar were sharing did not squeak as she eased it back on its hinges. She slid the robe off her shoulders and hung it on a peg, sighing in relief. Safe. She turned to the bed, and saw Kaddar sitting up, observing her by light called to his palm by his Gift. "Where were you?" His sleepy voice made the question a reproach rather than an accusation. "I woke and you were gone."  
  
"I got some juice." She blushed and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"I don't mind." He yawned. "Come back to bed. Do you need anything else?" He ruffled the sheet, as if he would get up.  
  
"Nothing you could have done for me." She smiled a little. "It's sweet of you to worry so, but I promise that I'm fine." She crossed the room and sat on the mattress. She leaned her back against the headboard and drew her legs up to the bed. He extinguished the light in his palm. She breathed for a few moments to settle herself. "I can't sleep anyway. It's so hot and the baby's kicking like mad."  
  
Kaddar rolled over to face her and propped himself up on his side. "Can I feel?"  
  
She blushed again. He had never before asked to touch the baby, though she sometimes took his hand and let him feel the kicking. She nodded and guided his hand to the site of the activity. An expression of wonder crossed Kaddar's face. His wife smiled. "It was a nice party tonight, wasn't it?"  
  
He agreed, now sitting to concentrate on the swells of movement under Kalasin's taut heated skin. She smiled as he moved his hand to her side and lowered his ear to her covered belly, as though he could hear the baby's heart. Kalasin's cradled his head between her palms in a rare caress. Kaddar turned his face and kissed the baby through her gown and skin. "Does it hurt?" He lifted his face to meet her eyes. The fears of fathers through the ages were on his face. The guilt and the curiosity mixed so that his face reflected a universal male attitude towards the miracle of life. He was reverent as his hands touched her body.  
  
"Not the baby moving, usually." She answered. "That feels strange, but wonderful too. My favorite is when he runs his hand around the edges of his world. It's not hard enough to hurt me; it's just so strange and wonderful to feel a hand touching me from the inside. I could live without the swollen ankles and joints and the stretched skin and the exhaustion and overheating and cramping." She laughed a little, but he withdrew his hand. He lay down again, on his right side, facing her. She eased down and laid on her left side to look at him. "I've been told that eating oranges and drinking more milk will help with the cramps. It's all worth it though. So worth it whenever he kicks me or I imagine holding him." Kalasin smiled, and a contented expression crossed her face.  
  
"You think we're having a boy?" Kaddar asked.  
  
She nodded. "Just a feeling, but we should talk about names. There are only two months left, and I'm not going to call him "the baby" until his naming ceremony, no matter what tradition says."  
  
Kaddar nodded eagerly. "Never too early to start."  
  
"Especially since every citizen, slave, priest and free man in the Empire is going to hear the name and comment on it." She groaned. "If we pick a Tortallan name, then they'll accuse you of bowing to your foreign wife. If we choose a name from an old Thak word, then we favor scholars over nobles. A traditional Chelogu name and we value your father's home more than your mother's. No matter what name we give him, someone will find a reason to be offended by it."  
  
Kaddar shushed her, almost amused to hear the cool, thoughtful Kalasin babble in frustration. "Stop. He is our son. We will choose a name with all due tact and reason, and the world can get over it. My money says it's a topic of discussion for ten minutes, less important than the latest hairstyle or who won the horse races at Festival."  
  
Kalasin nodded a little. "What names do you like?" She asked.  
  
"Are there any you like?" He fished.  
  
In the dark she laughed. "Lianne was right, how silly we are. Married four years and we still haven't learned to talk directly to one another. The truth is, I got out of bed because I had to pee, and the truth is you have at least a few names in your mind, but we both dance around just saying what we mean."  
  
Surprised by the accusation, he stilled for a second, until the humor of the situation caught up to him. "We are quite a pair. So polite to one another that we're afraid to talk. Why is that, do you suppose?" Kaddar asked.  
  
Kalasin honestly thought about it, and slumped. "All my life, I feared Carthak. When I was eight, your uncle sent ships and men and Stormwings to pound Pirate's Swoop. Then, I had to learn how to live here. Refugees from Carthak filled me full of stories of atrocities—or sometimes, they would say "It's too horrible for words," and then my imagination had to fill in the blanks. My imagination is very vivid." She chewed her lip. "I learned and practiced proper forms of address for different ranks of people till my head hurt. I was taught that when in doubt, formality could save me. When I'm frightened or out of my element, I stiffen up and slip into that formality." She shrugged one shoulder. "I do like you. I hope you know that. It's just that sometimes I feel I don't know you very well. I hope you don't think I'm out of line." Kalasin was grateful for the dark, because it covered her blush. She couldn't have said any of these things in the light of day or even looking in his face. But whispering in the dark lent everything a surreal air that allowed her to speak freely.  
  
"Not at all. Every word of it is true." Kaddar sighed. "I didn't make as much effort as I should've in the beginning. I was overwhelmed with the stress of ruling a country. You were seventeen, just a year older than I was when I became the Emperor, but I expected a little girl who would be no help, rather than the mature but naïve young woman you were. You just fit so well here. You did and do everything I asked or the realm needed and you do it so efficiently I came to take it for granted and now I forget you might feel homesick and lonely from time to time."  
  
"Maybe when my confinement begins we can spend more time getting to know one another instead of just each others' politics." She said shyly. "Strange, isn't it? To talk about getting to know your husband."  
  
"No stranger than getting to know your wife." Kaddar assured her. "You looked beautiful tonight."  
  
She laughed throatily. "Daine and Varice warned me that you were charming. I didn't realize that they meant you were a liar. I look like the girl who swallowed the seed and birthed the moon." She referenced an ancient legend.  
  
"My secret's been discovered at last. I wondered how long it would take you to realize that I'm a hopeless liar, always playing one off the other to keep my nobles in line." Kaddar toyed with a curl. "You are lovely though."  
  
Kalasin made a face, as the moon passed through a rare cloud break to illuminate her face. Her husband was startled into laughter. "I think I should commission a Court painter to immortalize that expression."  
  
Kalasin squeaked with outraged laughter. "Maybe we could hang it in the gallery." She rolled to lie on her back, because her side was sore. "Or we could use it to mint the new coins! Maybe the bards who have never seen me would stop writing ridiculous tropes about marble skin and sapphire eyes and night black hair."  
  
Kaddar laughed. "I think you're stuck with a reputation as the world's most beautiful woman."  
  
"At least in Carthak." Kalasin giggled. "But really, what names do you like?"  
  
"You must have thought about this." He countered.  
  
"I know more names I don't like than names I do." She confessed. "Ozorne is out, as is Roger." She turned on her side to look at him again. The moon had gone behind a cloud, so they were comfortably ensconced in darkness.  
  
He chuckled at her small joke, but refused to let her off the hook. "There must be at least one name that you like."  
  
She sobered, and quiet fell between them. Finally, she said, "Emry, maybe. Not for this child, because Emperor Emry sounds terrible. Plus, it's a Tortallan name, inappropriate for the heir to the Empire. But for our next son."  
  
"Emry." Kaddar tested the name. "That's the name of a military strategist from Tortall, right? From the days of your great-grandfather."  
  
"Yes, Emry of Haryse served Old King Jasson as a general. But I was thinking of his grandson, Sir Emry of Queenscove. He was the son of the finest healer in Tortall, Duke Baird. Emry died in the Immortals War. He saved my brother and me. I'll never forget it." She was troubled as she picked at the weave of the bedclothes. "He asked me for a favor the night before the battle that killed him. He asked me to name one of my sons for him. In Tortall, it's bad luck to name a baby for a living person, though it honors the dead. So in that way, he told me he probably wouldn't live out the night."  
  
"You admired him." Kaddar observed, not entirely without envy.  
  
"I did admire Emry." His wife murmured, without adding further explanations. Sir Emry had been a newly made knight, proud to fight for king and country beside his older brother and cousin and the King's Own in a battle to preserve the heir and the eldest princess. Though he insisted that his younger brother Neal, who labored at University was the romantic of the family, he too had been vulnerable to flights of fancy.  
  
Kally had been eleven and she had adored the kind young man with green eyes and a healing touch who helped her calm the soldiers and victims as she tended them. She had cried when she could not heal him, but her husband didn't need to hear such talk.  
  
Kaddar noticed her unwillingness to go further with this talk, and changed the subject. "But if it's bad luck, then why is Sir Gareth named for his father, Duke Gareth?"  
  
"There are a couple of theories about why the Duchess named her son after her husband." Kalasin said. "One, Gary was born while Uncle was away in a battle, and the Duchess didn't think he was coming home. Two, the Duchess hoped to confuse the Black God by having two men with the same name, so he could not take either. It's generally bad luck to have the same name as a living person, though. That's why Lord Alan named his son Thom, and his daughter Alanna. He wanted to continue the name, but he didn't want to invite bad luck." She shrugged.  
  
"So, you want a Carthaki name for this child?"  
  
"Yes." Kalasin said immediately. "Yes, that's only fitting."  
  
"We could name him Gazanoi, for my father."  
  
"Isn't that the name your sister gave to her oldest, who died of fever last year?" Kalasin asked, forbearing an unkind word about naming a child for a grandparent.  
  
Kaddar grimaced. "That's right. It might be in poor taste to give our little one the same name." He thought. "Let's avoid the problem altogether. Let's not saddle the child with a name that belonged to a relative or friend so we don't have to worry about who we're offending or excluding."  
  
Kalasin agreed. "And we don't have to give him the burden of expecting him to live up to the name of a man who either lived or died in some grand fashion that'll turn into a legend he can't possibly live up to." She said, a trifle more bitterly than she intended. She and Roald had always felt a little strange about having the names of grandparents who had committed suicide. Thayet had told her mother's story with pride, till Kally knew the story of the Queen's dramatic song, the K'Miri plight and the heroic defense offered by the Tourakams as well as she knew her own name.  
  
Roald's story had been harder to ferret out, but a vicious conservative who hated their mother had told them the story, rubbing their faces in Roald's "hunting accident" so soon after the death of his beloved. Roald and Kalasin had gone to Jonathan together, hoping for the truth. Roald had been almost tearful, begging to be told that his name did not belong to a coward. Their father had not lied to his son, but he had tried to tell the story from a different angle. Nevertheless, after that day, Roald was unable to act without imagining what was whispered behind his back and if he were being compared to his grandfather, who had taken the coward's path rather than having the courage to live in the face of terrible pain.  
  
Every bard who came to the palace to see the great hall of Kings where the mighty battle had occurred sang Liam's stories. Kalasin's younger brother took up the knight's path, and it seemed to his older siblings that he did so without the same trepidation they lived with every day. He did not ask if he, a humble page, was he to be measured against the Shang Dragon. Roald envied the Liam, because the younger brother treated his name as though it had never belonged to anyone else.  
  
Lianne lived her early years mistakenly believing that she was named after her older brother, Liam. She was vaguely aware that there used to be a Queen Lianne, but with childish innocence, she disregarded it. In any case, she was Lia to her family and friends, which helped her feel that her name belonged to her.  
  
Jasson knew that there was an Old King Jasson who was connected to him in some shadowy way, but with the self-importance of a child, the prince assumed that the old King was named after him, instead of the other way around. One of the great disappointments of his young life was discovering that the contrary was true. Of the Conte children, only Nora had a name that didn't first belong to someone else. Her siblings had envied her, while she felt like a disconnected outsider among them.  
  
"But if we rule out all of the family names, how do we pick one? Do we refuse to consider a name we like because we happen to know someone called by that word? Do we just look at a list and assign the first we don't recognize?" Hormones making her more easily frustrated, she rolled over to a more comfortable position and felt overwhelmed.  
  
Kaddar raised himself on his elbow. "No, that's not what I'm suggesting. Let's go by meaning."  
  
"Meaning?" Kalasin cocked her head.  
  
"In the language of this country, every name has meaning. A lot of them correspond to virtues instead of just being a sound."  
  
"What does Kaddar mean, then?"  
  
"Powerful."  
  
"Fitting." Kalasin smiled. "Some names are like that in Tortall also. Though they don't always fit, you understand."  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked, studying the way her unbound hair spread on the pillow and the sheen of sweat on her face.  
  
"Alanna means serene and peaceful." Kalasin sighed and rubbed at her side, as an elbow or a knee moved under the skin. "The Lioness is rather volatile, in case you didn't notice when you met her."  
  
"I always knew that you had a gift for understatement." Of their own accord, his fingers began to massage a little circle on her body.  
  
She smiled a little more and relaxed into his touch. "Myles means soldier, but Sir Myles of Olau is a desk knight and scholar to the heart. Gareth means gentle, but as much as I love the Duke and my Uncle Gary, neither of them are gentle. They're both sharp as a sword's point."  
  
"So maybe naming him after a quality we hope he'll possess isn't the way to go." Kaddar murmured. "I've always liked the name Karimah, which means "generous one" but you could be right about a name being pressure."  
  
Kalasin nodded up at him. "What about the name Kamil? It was your grandfather's second name, right? What does that mean?"  
  
Her husband laughed, and the rich sound bubbled through their room. "It means 'perfect one.' Talk about pressure—we'd be breaking three of our own rules; 1) Family Names 2) Pressure and 3) Qualities we don't know he'll possess."  
  
"I don't know. A name that means 'perfect' is more a description of how we feel about him and a vote of confidence than a burden."  
  
"In our minds." Kaddar agreed. "But think about what that name would feel like to him."  
  
Kalasin nodded. "You're right."  
  
He lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, which featured a mosaic of geometric patterns. "My mother had a few suggestions to make tonight."  
  
"I'm sure she did." Kalasin groaned.  
  
Kaddar took the opportunity to ask a question that had been niggling at him for a long time. "Is my mother 'the trial of your life'?" He quoted Buri.  
  
"What?" She asked, startled into laughter.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"No, she isn't that bad. I just wonder what I ever did to her sometimes, that's all."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Nothing." She shied away. "We were having a lovely talk. Let's leave this topic for another night, hmm?" She didn't wait for him to acquiesce. "Now, what names does she like?"  
  
"Kyan and Kimoni."  
  
Kalasin repeated them. "What do they mean?"  
  
"Kyan means 'little king.'" Kaddar smirked.  
  
"Descriptive." Kalasin conceded. "What about Kimoni?"  
  
"Great man." He said.  
  
She groaned. "This poor child is going to be called 'the baby' until he's old enough to pick his own name." Kaddar laughed, but a thoughtful expression darted across Kalasin's face. "That's how we'll choose!" She exclaimed eagerly.  
  
"Kalasin, I think we can make a choice before he's old enough to talk." Kaddar patronized.  
  
"No, this is something I learned from a midwife and healer around Pirate's Swoop. When the mother and father can't choose a name, they pick many that they like, and then they whisper them to the baby, who will tell them if he hears his name."  
  
Kaddar indulgently raised an eyebrow. "What does he do, cry when he hears his name? Or stop crying? How do you know it isn't just an accident, that he didn't just happen to stop crying at that moment?"  
  
"Scoff if you must." Kalasin made a show of her dignity, before smiling. "I know it sounds strange, but I saw it once. A woman had just given a daughter to the world, so we washed the baby and cleaned her and wrapped her in a blanket and gave her to her mother, and the mother began whispering names to the baby while the baby ate, but when the baby heard her name, she stopped sucking and looked up into her mother's face. And the mother said the name again, and the baby blinked and yawned, and returned to her meal. So the mother knew that her daughter heard her own name."  
  
Kaddar shrugged. If it meant that much to her, who was to say it was ridiculous? "Last resort?" He compromised.  
  
"Last resort." Kalasin agreed. She yawned. "I'm pretty sure he's a boy, but we should think about girl names too, just in case."  
  
"Isoke or Gzifa." Kaddar said immediately. "Gzifa is 'peaceful.'"  
  
Kalasin thought for a moment. "So we could name her for Buri and Alanna without doing it obviously? Because their names both have to do with peace."  
  
"And I like the name. It's a female form of Gazanoi, so it honors my father, without actually tying expectations into it."  
  
Kalasin smiled. "What about 'Isoke'? What does that mean?"  
  
"Gift from God." Kaddar said. "The boy name with the same meaning is Kirabo."  
  
Kalasin sat up abruptly. "That's his name." She said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The way he moved just now—Kirabo. That is his name. It's perfect. I like how it sounds. The meaning describes how we feel about him without putting pressure on him. Because after losing our first baby," She choked, and continued relentlessly. "He is a gift. And my father's name, Jonathan, means 'gift of god.' So it's a roundabout way of honoring the family without making it messy politically." She turned and smiled at him. "So, Gzifa for a girl, and Kirabo for a boy. Princess Gzifa, Prince Kirabo, Emperor Kirabo. It even has easy nicknames."  
  
Kaddar grinned at her enthusiasm. "This is why we're politicians. We figured out how to honor our families without inciting riots in our country, plus we even found names we like."  
  
"Thank the Goddess." Kalasin yawned again and settled into the bed. "If we're going to face the ghastliness that is the morning we should probably sleep. We can talk about second names some other time."  
  
Kaddar sighed. "What's tomorrow?" He asked drowsily.  
  
"The beginning of preparations for the arrival of Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, the Giantkiller and Squire Alan of Olau and Pirate's Swoop." His wife pulled the sheet over her head. "More parties, may the gods help us all. I don't think my feet will last."  
  
Kaddar laughed. "You're sure that we have to host more parties?"  
  
"They're sick of them and we're sick of them and I have a healer's orders to stay off my feet, so I could probably convince Varice that once a week is enough, but it might be a lot of work to drag Raoul and Buri out that often. They both hate social functions, though they have learned to tolerate them. But I'll have to make sure that no one brings Raoul alcohol, because he doesn't drink it, and Alan can't eat certain nuts and it's just going to be a delight to sort it all out." The sheet muffled her words. "And everyone's going to stare at me because I wore that dress and those shoes tonight."  
  
Kaddar laughingly caressed her shoulder. "You had a good time at the party. If they stare, it's only because you were so beautiful last night."  
  
Kalasin uncovered her head and sighed. "It's wonderful to be married to a liar, some days."  
  
"You were beautiful, but it was a bit dangerous." He said.  
  
"Dangerous? No, the belt I wore protected me from lesser mages. And the brooch would have disabled poisons. The buttons were black opal. I put them on every dress as a power reserve."  
  
"I know that." He said. "I trust you to recognize and compensate for the dangers we live with in this Court. I meant that exposing a crowd to the full force of your beauty, without the distraction of jewels and ruffles might've blinded them."  
  
She giggled. "You're terrible, flattering me and flirting with me when I feel like a whale."  
  
He sighed. "Why don't you ever believe that I'm telling you the truth about your looks?"  
  
"Because I'm not as beautiful as you keep raving, and because compliments are a weapon as deadly as a sword in the Lioness's hand, in the right mouth."  
  
Kaddar gave her a confused glance.  
  
Kalasin tried to explain. "Usually, a compliment flatters and makes the subject feel better. A skillful flatterer can make the recipient feel as though she needs his approval. After all, if he always thinks she's wonderful and says so in glowing terms, then if he isn't complimenting her, she must be doing something wrong. It gives him more power than a bow or sword, because then she wants to please him. And sometimes she starts to think that the only good things about her are the things he compliments. I've seen intelligent women paralyzed, unable to make a choice of any kind because they're obsessed over what a man thinks of their appearance."  
  
"I'm not trying to manipulate you." He said. "I want you to know that I think well of you."  
  
She tossed her hair. "I'm not responsible for my looks. I just got lucky because my parents are attractive people. I'd rather be honestly praised for the things I've worked to accomplish than extravagantly praised for an accident of birth."  
  
"An accident of birth?" Kaddar arched an eyebrow. "Maybe, maybe not. It's true that you inherited your features from your family, but you do take care of yourself and your appearance. You're not vain and you don't obsess, but you don't run around in dirty rags that don't fit, either."  
  
Kalasin could not respond to such obvious silliness, so she simply looked at him. He reached out and rested her hand on his chest, holding it with both of his own. He kissed each finger in turn, then lay with her hand on his chest. "Are you angry?" He asked finally.  
  
"Why would I be angry?" Her blue eyes were honestly confused. "Your instincts are good with the compliments, and I do appreciate that you tell me that you like how I look. Please don't misunderstand me—"  
  
"Don't trip over your words." He said. "My feelings aren't hurt. It's just that my mother shows love by correcting people every other minute. I prefer to show my love a different way." He tickled her cheek with a piece of her own hair, then released the game. "Are you angry because I told Buri about the first baby?" He hesitated and choked over the words.  
  
Kalasin's body stiffened. "I'm not angry." She said, in a stilted voice. Her body language and tone suddenly put them miles apart, instead of curled together intimately.  
  
Kaddar held on to her hand. "Because it's okay if you are angry."  
  
She didn't answer him.  
  
"Or if you're frightened or sad or if you feel betrayed. It's okay for you to feel all those things, and it's okay for you to tell me, or do something about it."  
  
She tugged her hand out of his and turned her back to him.  
  
He sighed. He was the Emperor of all the Southern Lands, but he had trouble talking to his wife. How ridiculous was this? "Please, Kalasin." He coaxed, with a sudden stab of fear. What if she withdrew again? After the miscarriage, Kalasin had stayed in bed for days that stretched to weeks. She had barely spoken, and had become indifferent to food, drink, company, and personal hygiene. He still didn't know what had snapped her out of it, but he couldn't risk her withdrawing into herself again. He grabbed her shoulder, and squeezed as the intensity of his emotions got the better of him. "Scream, yell, break things, hit me, cry, but do something. Don't freeze again. Kalasin, I don't think I would make it if you froze again." And then the pain and fear was thick in his voice.  
  
She rolled her shoulder, and he released his grip. She rolled over, sat up and looked at him. "I'm not angry." She enunciated in a clear, clipped voice. He bit his lip, hurt. She reached over and pressed one hand to his heart, gently. "Really." She said, in a more genuine way. "I'm just surprised that you did it so quickly, and a little hurt that you told her without telling me what you were going to do." She paused. "I'm actually relieved too, in a way."  
  
Kaddar let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Relieved?"  
  
"Because you explained it, I didn't have to." She said. "I didn't have to look in her face and admit that my body failed me. I didn't have to deal with her feeling betrayed that I kept that secret, on top of my own betrayal and guilt and shame and sorrow. So, thank you, I guess."  
  
Kaddar stared at her. "You think that your body betrayed you because it did something you didn't want it to do?" He asked.  
  
Kalasin made a miniscule gesture of acquiescence.  
  
"Kalasin, that's-," He checked his tongue from the words crazy and silly, "Not what happened at all." He sat up to better look at her. "A mage cast a spell that ripped the life out of your belly. You could not prevent it, or know that it was going to happen. And you cannot blame yourself for an action committed against you." She scowled, but he pressed on. "If you had been raped, it would not be you fault. It would be laid at the feet of the rapist, and no other. This is an occasion where your body was violated, but you cannot hold yourself accountable for it."  
  
She turned her face away, cold as stone. "I should've known you wouldn't understand."  
  
"What don't I understand?" He asked, frustrated. "Let me in, please. Don't you understand that I love you? I want to know what's going on in that head of yours. You try to lock everybody out and keep them at a distance with that cutting politeness. But guess what? You let me in anyway, so letting me know that I'm in won't hurt anymore."  
  
She struggled to find words, and began haltingly. "I'm a woman. I am designed to make life grow. I've been preparing to be a mother since my first blood. So many girls see that first blood and swear they don't want children, but I knew I wanted babies and toddlers and little ones always underfoot." She bit her upper lip to stop its trembling. "I failed. It doesn't matter why, it matters that I lost that baby. She was counting on me; I was all she had." The emperor's wife choked on the lump in her throat and her own tears, and the Emperor finally gathered her up in his arms as she cried. "I understand logically that I didn't kill my baby, but in my heart, I feel that I'm to blame. I was her mother, I should have been able to keep her safe and I couldn't. I failed her."  
  
"By that logic, we both failed her." He said. "I was her father; I was one half of her. I've lived here longer, and I know the ways of the vipers better than you did. I should've predicted that someone would do something like this for one reason or another. It was my failing, if it was anyone's." Kalasin uttered a wet protest. Kaddar did not hush her, but let her cry it out.  
  
"I know you had one half in creating her, but she lived in me, and then she didn't and I can't explain to you or anyone else how that feels." She sniffled, choked, coughed. "And I know I'm not the only woman who ever lost a child. Look at your sister. Nadereh kept going after she lost Gazanoi. Can you imagine losing a living child and continuing? I can't. It's not the natural order for a parent to bury a child. It just isn't." She said fiercely. He agreed, as he eyed his handkerchief, all the way across the room. "I'm a healer. I know that the Black God claims souls whenever he pleases. I've seen babies die in the womb and out of it, and sicknesses pass through the Eastern and Southern Lands, and battles that end the lives of warriors and innocents alike, but this attack was so personal." She gasped for air against her husband's bare chest.  
  
He wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet. "Why have you been carrying all of this around alone?" He asked. "I feel the pain and the loss too, and you're the only one I could talk to about it, but you never wanted to talk. Why?"  
  
"Every time I talk about it, I open the grief. It's like this hole in my heart that swallows everything, and the more it swallows the more it grows, and the only way to keep it from swallowing me completely is to lock it away in this dark corner and not look at it or think about it until I have to. That's why I didn't want anybody to know. As soon as people know, they say "I'm so sorry," and it is so little, but it brings it all back anyways." She breathed through her tears. "But it was swallowing me anyway, even though I locked it away."  
  
"I know." He kissed the crown of her head, and inhaled the scent of her sweet-smelling hair. "I didn't plan to tell her, but it just popped out. I don't regret it. I think talking about it and opening up the wound will allow it to heal."  
  
"You're trying to say that it's time the emergency bandage came off and we dealt with it truly, hmm?" Kalasin wiped her eyes. "I seem to cry so much these days."  
  
"Nadi and my mother and my other sisters always said tears have a certain power to heal broken hearts."  
  
"Back to your mother, hmm?"  
  
"Well, we dragged through everything else tonight." He said wryly. "I think we've done more honest communication tonight than in the last four years. So what's wrong with her?"  
  
"Nothing." Kalasin said firmly. "Nothing at all. Fazia is a wonderful, strong woman." His eyes bored into hers, and she squirmed. "It's just that she still treats me as a northern barbarian, unfit to look in her son's face, let alone share his bed and table. At home, I was very close to my mother and my adopted aunts. When I came here, I thought, or I hoped, that your mother and sisters would love me and that we could be close in a similar way." Uncertain, Kalasin bit her lower lip. "I was so used to being loved completely for who I was that her critical reception was a little surprising."  
  
"She does love you." Kaddar said. "To be honest, she treats you the same way she treats my sisters. Criticizing is in her nature. It's not that she doesn't love you, or Nadi, or the others. It's that she loves you so much she doesn't know quite how to say it, so she tells you how you could improve yourself. Just take everything she says with a grain of salt and the knowledge that under all the criticism, she really saying 'I love you, I think you are the best.'" He smiled wryly. "At least, that's what I choose to believe."  
  
Kalasin kissed him, full on the lips. "I got so lucky with you." She told him, eyes shining with unshed tears and gratitude.  
  
His own eyes ere unnaturally bright as he asked, "What do you mean?'  
  
"Just look at us. At this."  
  
He looked, but all he saw was the tiled and mosaiced marble guestroom of his mother's home. This room had not changed since his father died in Siraj. Almost nothing in their house had. Fazia had never liked changing the house while her husband was away, saying that he deserved to return to the place he remembered. Of course, as soon as Gazanoi returned she would greet him with fabrics and colors and plans for the house. When the prince of the far flung Chelogu province most wanted to recover from the wars in silence, his wife would lead her own style of army through the house to redecorate. Kaddar had hypothesized that it was her way of including her husband in family affairs. After his father died, Fazia approached redecorating less enthusiastically. This room had originally been done in the colors of Chelogu's flag, to welcome the prince's family. Thought the actual patterns and bed linens had changed, the colors had been the same for as long as Kaddar could remember.  
  
Then he looked at the woman in front of him, and he understood. She was six years younger than he was. They had become engaged and married (at least on paper) without ever seeing one another. Yet here they were, curled together intimately, whispering together throughout a night, with a child on the way. They had built their own life, and made their own memories and mistakes. They had stayed together through a domestic tragedy, and the typical power struggles and daily turmoil of ruling a kingdom recovering from a bad king, a famine, a drought, a war, the wrath of the gods, total destruction of treasury, palace capital, and tax records. They had found a certain type of love, which would grow through their years and life together. Not all arranged marriages between people of disparate ages and backgrounds worked out so well. "We are lucky." He agreed wholeheartedly.  
  
Kalasin smiled at him and ran her fingers through her tousled curls. Her eyes were reddened from her tears and her nose was pink, but he looked at her and saw the best thing that had ever happened to him. He reached out and took her face between his palms. "Thank you for coming to Carthak." He told her, then leaned forward and kissed each cheek. He drew back. "Thank you for agreeing to spend your life with me." He kissed her nose. "Thank you for being the woman you are." He kissed her lips. Her hands reached up, and one gripped each of his wrists. His palms still cupped her cheeks. They drew apart. She blinked, her eyes suddenly heavy. "I hope they let us sleep late. Emotional purges are so exhausting."  
  
He laughed. "I'd say we should do this more often, but I think I'll settle for us being honest together all the time, instead of one night a year."  
  
They lay down, spooned together like carefree kittens. Their legs tangled, and her back pressed to his belly. They fell asleep with her head on his right arm and with his left arm resting across her belly and side. Her right arm rested under her chin, but her left arm paralleled Kaddar's. Their hands were intertwined. Despite the heat, they slept the rest of the night tangled together like new lovers, content that the ice of polite reserve between them had thawed and broken quite a bit in just one night.  
  
Author's Notes: The majority of names and meanings are taken from , though I also looked at Tara's Tamora Pierce site and the section on names. The link is [will not display]. (If someone could explain how to get links to work through , I would be very grateful) I looked mostly at African and Arabic names for Kalasin and Kaddar's baby, because Kaddar and Numair, two Carthaki names, are both taken from Arabic. I also looked for meanings and origins of K'miri names. I learned that Buriram and Kalasin are names of two cities in Northeastern Thailand, while Thayet is the name of many regions and villages in Burma. The story of Emry of Queenscove is my attempt to fill in some details. From PotS we know that two of Neal's older brothers were knights who died in the Immortals war. Since they are not named, I took the liberty.  
  
I invented the taboo of naming a child for a living relative, since in some ancient cultures it was believed that if relatives had the same name, the gods would become confused and take the life of both those who shared the name. I expanded the trend of naming a child for a dead relative into a tradition. In many older cultures, the continuance of a name and fame and remembrance was thought to be the only ticket to immortality. In any case, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
  
rachel132 – Thanks for reading! I'm glad you're curious about what happens next. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint and that you'll continue to read.  
  
Lady Silvamord – I'm glad you're still reading the story! I'm sorry you don't like Jonathan, but I'm glad you enjoyed his interaction with Thayet. I gave you a whole chapter of nothing but Kaddar and Kally. They're not quite playing pranks, but they are talking, which is a step in the right direction. As for Lianne/Alan/Nora/Thom, you'll just have to wait and see what happens when Squire Alan and Sir Raoul come to Carthak. If you look at Chapter 2, Lianne is a little hysterical over the possibilities of Nora and Thom, but I can tell you that she's really hysterical at the thought of her badly behaved sister having an opportunity to choose her own life while the obedient Lianne might not have her choice between the prince and the baron's son.  
  
Ami Angel – Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that you thought George was funny. Thanks also for saying that Kalasin's insecurities were realistic. I hope you still think so after this chapter. I know that we all have a tendency to idealize fictional characters but I think that Kalasin and Kaddar would have problems like anyone else, from the mundane physical and common in-law issues to the less common shared burden of power. Thanks again for letting me know that you enjoyed the story!  
  
Tailyn – Thank you very much for taking the time to visit the update! I'm flattered by your compliments. I'm glad that the characterizations work and that the emotions are reasonable (though I am concerned that "reasonable emotions" is a paradox.) Thank you for enjoying my take on Thayet. I think she's a character with a lot of substance who lives in constant danger of being written off as just a pretty face. I hope you enjoyed this installment. It was a lot of talking without much action, but Kalasin and Kaddar wound up having a lot to say to one another. Thanks again for reading and reviewing, I'm very glad you're enjoying the story.  
  
Razzberrycat – Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm glad to know you're enjoying the story!  
  
Wild Mage – Thanks for being so enthusiastic. This chapter didn't write itself as quickly as I hoped, but the delay wasn't quite so long as the wait for chapter 5. I had actually already picked the name Kirabo for the baby, but I like Kira for a nickname. At first, I wasn't sure I should pick another 'K' name, because it is a little cutesy, but then I found that name and it just fit. Thanks for reading and reviewing!  
  
Trickster666 – Thank you for reading and reviewing, and thank you for catching the Theyet and piece glitches in chapter 5. ::Blush:: I started rushing, but those two mixups have now been corrected. I'm really glad that you enjoyed the scene. I thought the dynamics of the three married men who do love Thayet and do have the best of intentions trying to offer comfort to a mother separated from her daughter worked, because even with the best intentions in the world they are a little clueless. Thanks for being so understanding about the job. It's been an eventful summer family wise as well, so I've been writing much less than my personal preference allows. But thank you so much for your glowing feedback. I really appreciate it.  
  
KittyCate – Nice name, first of all! I'm glad you are reading the story and that you liked it enough to take the time to review. I'm sorry you hate waiting, but I hope that doesn't mean you won't read any more until I finish the story! I'm glad you like my version of how Kally adapted to Carthak and how she's changing it to find a place of her own there. Thanks again for reading! 


	7. Feedback to Feedback

Title: Lonely at the Top Response to Chapter 6 Feedback

Author: Kate

Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.

Rating: PG

I'm sorry this isn't an update, I know you're all waiting so patiently and I appreciate it. Real life has taken some busy turns. I will finish this story, but the vignette has decided that it would rather be a chapter, and so I had to restructure the ending. The chapter is almost ready, but not quite, and I wanted to make sure you all know I'm still here and working. Thanks for reading the story and for being so patient. I'll post again soon.

Trickster666,

After I read your review, I couldn't stop smiling for a week! Shakespeare blood...I wouldn't go that far, but thanks. Thank you so much for the glowing feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. I agree, Arabic names look and sound lovely. The webpage on names is actually through Tara's Tamora Pierce page. Here's the link again (maybe it'll display this way) www(dot)dy8(dot)co(dot)uk(slash)tamora(slash)names(dot)htm.

The legend I had in mind when I talked about Kalasin was the legend of Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, the Roman ideal for feminine values. Cornelia married a man and they had twelve children together. After he died, she never remarried, embodying the fidelity. Of her twelve children, four survived to adulthood, one of them being the Gracchi, a famous Roman leader. The legend about her was that even though she was wealthy and had many possessions, she was happier being a wife and mother than anything else. Once an old school friend of Cornelia's came to visit while Cornelia's children were very young. The friend wore tons of jewels and rich clothing and asked Cornelia where her treasures were. Cornelia's answer has come down through history as a quasi-legend. She called all her children into the room and introduced each in turn, then said "these are my treasures." Angelica Kauffman, a British neoclassical painter painted a version of the scene that you can see at: www(dot)nd(dot)edu(slash)artslide(slash)europeanart(slash)htmls(slash)euro20(dot)html. Druck and Pobuda made an etching or an imprint of Cornelia the Mother at this website: http(colon slash slash)sc(dot)millersville(dot)edu(slash)manuscripts(slash)manus(slash)imprints(slash)artimage(slash)art33.jpg

I have always thought that even though the legend is supposed to illustrate that Cornelia was the perfect mother, she might've just wanted to get her bragging friend to hush. I tried to put the human origins of a legend in Kalasin—thanks for wondering about it!

Mystic fire demon,

Thanks a lot for your feedback! I'm glad you think the story has a good plot and emotional depth and is well written. Thanks so much for the compliments.

Lady Silvamord,

You are so sweet. I always love your feedback. Thank you for the five star rating. Thanks also for the kick in the teeth about this story. I have the bare bones of the last three chapters floating around on my computer. I swear I am fleshing out the outlines and working on the story—but with all the glowing feedback, I don't want to disappoint. I promised myself I will complete this story before I read Trickster's Queen so I don't reverse engineer the story and TQ arrived in the mail the other day, so I swear I will update for real soon. Thank you for sticking with me and the story for so long. I have heard of the Dancing Dove and the great fan community over there—haven't participated much, but I think I'll try to.

Lady Draconis,

Well the update hasn't been quick, but thanks for the feedback. I'm glad to know you enjoy it.

The Wild Mage

Thank you for the feedback! It's great to know people are reading and enjoying the story. Sorry the update's taking forever.

Merit Somnia,

Thank you for the feedback. I'm glad that the ending of the chapter was romantic and that I wrote the problems in a way you could imagine. Sorry the update is taking so long, thanks for reading.

Moon Usagi

Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad you approve of the characterization. I don't usually go for OCs too much myself, so that's why you won't actually see Nora, just hear people talk about her. I'm glad to hear that there are other Kalasin Kaddar shippers out there!

Samli,

Thank you for the feedback and for the good wishes with the contest. I'm glad you like the story so far!


	8. Brother to Brother

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 7/?

Author: Kate, 

Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: It isn't a perfect chapter, by any means, but I couldn't hold it back any more. This was originally going to be a separate vignette, but I decided it fit in well enough to be a chapter. I got my idea for the characterization of Thom as absent-minded scholar from a thread at Sheroes central and one at the Dancing Dove (such cool people over there folks. If you haven't visited yet, go soon). Honestly, I didn't mean to bring in another OC. Don't hurt me. I created Aislinn from comments made at Sheroes about Thom having a girlfriend and bringing her home at Midwinter for Alanna to make skunk eyes at. I developed the ideas about bards from the title "Song of the Lioness" and comments that characters make about tall tales (ie singing songs about the mountains of bodies piled up by the Shang Dragon and "now I see you I remember you aren't 10 feet tall") Daine's perceptions of Alanna are formed by songs—very typical for an oral culture. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Alan of Olau and Pirate's Swoop padded up the creaking wooden stairs of the boardinghouse/ inn that served as a home to a growing number of University students and mages in Corus, the capital of Tortall. Thom, Alan's brother happened to be among the residents of this particular house, which was in a less desirable neighborhood than the University-owned housing. The advantage to this inn was that good food was included in the price of room and board and no one asked too many questions if a young lady accompanied a resident home for an evening and did not leave until morning.

When Alan reached Thom's door, he knocked confidently. The squire wanted to surprise his scholarly sibling, but Alan knew better than to make a real fuss or disturbance in a building full of student mages, who were still working on a balance between power and control. Thom's door opened a crack, then was thrown inward when the occupant recognized his guest. Thom grabbed his brother in a fierce hug. "Alan! When did you get to Corus? How long are you staying? Come in, come in!" Thom pounded Alan's back enthusiastically.

Thom pulled Alan into the room, which was larger than Alan had expected, but cluttered. It was cramped with furniture and possessions, including a large unmade bed, a desk with lots of drawers and workspace, a wardrobe haphazardly closed, a scarred walnut vanity and a mirror on the wall above it. The silver mirror was highly polished. In Alan's estimation, it was probably the cleanest thing in the room. A kettle hung suspended in the room's small fireplace. The hearth was intended to keep the residents from freezing, but not much beyond.

The brothers were grinning identical grins, inherited from their father. "We just got in two hours ago and we're leaving tomorrow. My knight master only entered the city for orders and fresh horses. Since we're here, we get food and drink too. And since Sir Raoul and I will be traveling for another month, at least, he saw fit to give me leave to visit the city tonight." Alan made an elaborate Player's bow. "And so I am here to beg a drink for a parched throat." Alan's eyes darted around the desk, landing on the piles of parchment and books, powders and mug of drink. "You're working." He realized. "No mind, the weary traveler will—,"

"Cut it out." Thom smiled. "Of course I have a drink for my road weary brother." The bookworm looked around the room as though he were seeing it for the first time in weeks. "Gods, this place turned into a sty, didn't it? Well, I have money for a drink, anyway, and I know a charming place."

"Not so fast." The squire said. "Does anyone know about your friend? The red head gestured to the ribbons and face paint and jewelry that were scattered across the vanity, obviously left there by an occupant and not by a one-time visitor. Petticoats and shoes lay abandoned in a heap between the wardrobe and the bed.

Thom rumpled his own hair and allowed a dreamy expression to cross his face. "I took her to supper with Gramma, and arranged for Cythera and Gary to come to one of her performances and to meet her after. Her folks have been traveling Players for time out of mind. She stopped traveling with them a year ago, but she still sings to raise the fees for the school of bardic arts. She's actually doing a study of her own on the idea of history as represented by popular ballads. It's how we got to talking. She sang a Lioness ballad that Mother has always hated--,"

"Thom." Alan interrupted sharply, knowing that his brother could talk forever about research. "Who else knows about--," Alan thought. "What's her name?"

"Aislinn. Da saw her last time he passed through. I'm bringing her home to Pirate's Swoop at Midwinter."

"To meet Mother AND Aly and that mad creature she adopted?" Alan whistled. "Brave girl, though I give her low marks for common sense." Thom frowned, so Alan added, "She sounds like she'll fit in perfectly. Insanity runs in the family, as mother says. And she must have substance, if she survived Gramma and Aunt Cythera."

Thom grabbed a lightweight wool jacket from a peg. "Aly may not be there at Midwinter." He shrugged.

Alan sent his brother a quizzical look. "Where else would she be? Even Gramma and Grandfather are making the trip from Corus to the Swoop."

Thom shrugged, unwilling to pursue that line of talk. He ushered Alan out of the chaos of the room and led him through the house. "Be quiet now. Scrying final is tomorrow so most of the lads are probably practicing, and you don't want to distract them, I warrant."

Alan ghosted through the tenement, making almost no sound. On the street, he walked with less attention to silence and more to his surroundings. Thom strolled casually, the sights and faces familiar. When the boys were settled with full tankards of ale at the Laughing Lark (a popular inn where Aislinn was scheduled to perform that evening), Thom turned to his brother. "So, not that I'm not glad you did, but why did you look me up tonight? Usually when you're in town you don't bother with your boring brother." Thom ran a critical eye over Alan. The younger brother had grown. Alan had gained breadth in his shoulders in addition to the added height and weight. His mop of red hair was curlier and longer than Thom expected, and he was sporting a small gold ring in his left earlobe.

"What's this now? A lad can't look up his own brother without incurring suspicion?" Alan asked, feigning hurt and a common accent.

Thom snorted at Alan's pretended affront. "You're troubled by something, and unless my Aislinn is a virgin priestess, it's a woman on your mind."

Alan jumped a little and made a face. "Since Aly went away, you picked up her strange habit of ruffling feathers. And you do wrong your lady. I'm sure she's chaste and radiant as a crescent moon over the goddess's birch grove in the first snow of winter."

"Your company's been running with Neal again, hasn't it?" Thom tisked. "His florid poetry is rubbing off."

"I resent that. My metaphors are much better than Queenscove's." Alan said, referring to their mother's colorful former squire.

"You never answered my question." Thom prompted.

"There may be a girl." Alan frowned pensively. "That's part of the problem, actually. I don't really know if there's anything there to worry about."

"Who is she?" Thom asked. "A merchant's child? A Player? A farmer's daughter, a convent lady? A foul old man's fair young mistress?"

Alan sipped from his tankard. "Do I have your word that what I say to you is said only for you?"

"She's not a child, is she?"

Alan looked appalled. "Of course not."

"Then, yes." Thom said. "I'll keep your secret as long as you ask."

"She's fifteen, almost sixteen." Alan said. "And she's perfect. She's intelligent, but she's kind. She's beautiful, but not like Cythera where it hurts to look at the beauty too long. She has a sense of humor and a temper, and moods, but she's not the type to cut with words as easy as breathing."

Thom frowned. "Do I know her?" He prayed a quick prayer to the Goddess who ruled love and marriage that the answer was "no," because an uncomfortable suspicion was forming. Though Thom and Alan loved each other as brothers, Alan was actually closer to Prince Liam. The boys had been best friends since they survived the Immortals War together. There were few reasons that Thom could imagine for Alan bringing a love problem to his brother rather than his friend, and one of them was the identity of the lady in question.

"Perhaps." Alan shrugged elegantly, playing with his cup a little.

"It's Lianne." Thom realized aloud. "Little Lia of the pulled pigtails and glowing eyes who used to play with you and Liam."

"Don't say it too loud." Alan looked around nervously. "And only maybe. I know she's destined for Maren and that stupid prig of a prince, and I know she's only fifteen, but I believe that we are meant to spend our mortal lives together."

Thom's face was inscrutable. Inwardly, he was cursing every stupid balladeer who had ever sung about the thwarted love of the Lioness and King (ignoring for a moment that his Aislinn would be included in that curse). They had to be to blame for the Lioness's son fancying the king's daughter.

Unaware of Thom's displeasure, Alan forged ahead. "I have loved her since we were children together. I always knew that she was special, but now she has such poise and grace. Our time together in Maren only made me surer that we are two halves of a whole."

Thom unsealed his lips to ask a question. "What happened in Maren?"

"Liam went to visit her with his knight master, so I went with them, because it was summer and Aly was nowhere to be seen and I needed something useful to do and the war was at a standstill and I did miss Lia." Alan looked ashamed of himself for a moment. "Letters are so odd when you're trying to know how someone is, because they're so censored you have to read what isn't there as much as you read what they write."

Thom nodded understanding. "Da practically dissects Mother's letters whenever they come." He confirmed.

Alan sighed. "She didn't write just to me, of course. She can't."

Thom nodded, because he was well aware of the custom that forbade single noblewomen from writing to single men, unless their fathers had provided specific approval for courting. Exceptions were made for brothers and uncles and relations too close for marriage, but as a mere friend, Lia's messages to Alan had to pass through Liam. If she had truly wanted to write just to Alan, she could've sealed a letter to him inside a letter to a lady in waiting and asked the lady in waiting to deliver it secretly, but gossip that attractive spread like fire through the palace and city.

"We went to visit her and to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Liam has a sharp eye and a knack for reading volatile political situations. Didn't take his eye or Aly's brain to see that she was miserable, but doing her best to charm them." A flash of something—anger, desire, hope, maybe simple memory—flashed in Alan's eyes.

Thom downed half his drink, eyes not wavering from Alan's face. "I didn't know that there was such difficulty."

"Lia looked like skin was the only thing holding her bones together. She wasn't eating well and they were only letting her ride and draw once or twice a week. You know that she rides every day when she's home!" Alan shook his head as if to displace the emotion. "They were chipping at her soul, at the things she does that make her special." He continued his narration, "But when she saw us—me and Liam—her face lit up as though we'd given her the greatest gift of her life. She was laughing and crying and she held onto me so tightly, I couldn't breathe." Alan felt those desperate, joyful arms around his neck once more.

A serving maid passed the table and refilled Thom's tankard. "Linn said you was staying in to study tonight. Won't she be surprised?" The bar maid winked a welcome to Thom's handsome companion and was mildly offended when all she got for her flirtatious pains was a half-hearted nod.

Thom nodded. "She'll scold me, no doubt, then sing my favorite to me."

The girl smirked. "If she's too hard on you, come around to see me for some comfort."

Thom laughed. "Not I. There's none for me but my Linn."

The serving maid strolled away, an extra roll in her gait. Alan did not notice, and Thom ignored the customary attempt at flirtation.

Thom leaned forward. "She greeted you happily?" He prompted.

"Lord Martin told me later that if we had been in the tents of the Bazhir in the old days, and she were a veiled maiden and I a single man, we'd have been married or executed by nightfall."

Thom winced. "Who else saw?"

"That fat, stupid, goat-faced, self-satisfied, wretched prig they want her to marry didn't even notice."

"Gee Alan, what do you really think of her intended?" Thom asked.

"The pig yawned the whole way through Lord Martin's speech of greeting and Liam's thanks." Alan sighed. "The reprimand didn't even matter. In that second, I was gone."

Several candles were extinguished, and a large torch at the front of the room was lit. A beautiful woman gowned perfectly in a dazzling garment of reds and golds strummed a lyre. Conversation quieted a bit. A rapt expression came across Thom's face, so Alan turned to study the girl who seemed to be his older brother's companion.

The girl, Aislinn, had the dark looks of a gypsy Player. There were tales about men who went mad with lust at the sight of young Player girls, and evaluating this one, Alan could understand why. Her hair was black and curly and wild. A gold chain rested on the crown of her hair, coming back from a pearl on her forehead, in a style popularized by renewed relations with the Copper Isles. Aly had brought such jewels to her mother and grandmother after her year abroad.

Aislinn's eyes were enormous and limpid, though there was dreaminess in the depths. Her mouth was red and promised all sorts of delights, from songs to kisses. Dimples danced in her cheeks, suggesting flashes of humor. Alan could imagine what had attracted his brother to the vibrant girl, though he was less certain about what had bonded them together.

She began to sing a Tortallan standard, a song known to every child born in Jonathan's realm. Alan had believed he knew every intonation of the song, but as he listened, Aislinn brought new life to the classic about the little girl who grew up to be a fearsome Provost. Alan was amused at how many of the roguish folks were enjoying the tale of justice against thieves. Thom and Alan sat in silence, drinking occasionally during Aislinn's set.

"She's incredible." Alan said, with genuine admiration.

"Yes." Thom agreed, but he was frowning a little bit. "I wonder where she got that pearl?" He murmured aloud.

Alan shrugged. Thom shook his head, dismissing the troublesome thought. "We'll meet her after. Right now she's drinking something and catching her breath and I'd just be a bother. Tell me more about your time in Maren."

"During the whole month we talked every chance we got. We walked through fields, we ate together, we just couldn't get our fill of hearing and seeing one another. Liam was along most times, but you know how it is with the three of us."

Thom did indeed know. Liam, Lianne, and Alan were a unit. They were capable of thinking, acting and even communicating with minimal conversation. Alianne was a part of Alan, and an extension of the group, but she had too much fun discomfiting the others with pithy observations to truly be included as the fourth of that triumvirate. If things had gone true to form, Liam had led the way while Lia and Alan dawdled and chatted, saying much with innocuous conversation. Thom breathed a sigh of relief that nothing too drastic had happened with chaperones present.

"How did you part?"

"At the end of the month, Liam, Lord Martin and I departed. She wept and tried to make it seem like she didn't. She held onto Liam so long he tried to ask if we could bring her home early. But she refused, insisted she would finish out her time."

"And since she returned?"

"Raoul couldn't be convinced that we had business where she was, and then she was gone for Carthak and hang it all if I know what she thinks of me." Alan threw back his drink.

"Where do you want this to go?" Thom asked, ever practical. "She is the daughter of the man the gods appointed to rule this country. You are the son of a jumped up thief and a woman who masqueraded as a man to win a shield."

Alan felt as though he had just tilted with Raoul and been popped out of his saddle like a cork from a champagne bottle. "But mother's the King's champion." He protested.

"Aye, and Da is well respected in his way too. But what I want you to see is that there's no fooling around with a king's daughter. People permitted a dalliance between the Prince and his squire thirty years ago, but they still can't accept a noble woman who loses her virginity before she marries. Is what you feel today going to last forever?"

Alan's mouth opened to answer.

Thom cut him off. "And do you want to be answering that before you win a shield and before she sees her sixteenth year?"

Alan settled back and moodily sipped his ale.

"Anything else you want to add?" Alan asked sourly.

"Yes." Thom said. "Though I doubt you want to hear it."

"I won't take it amiss." Alan promised.

"What about that other young lady of Conté who fancies you?"

"What are you talking about?" Confusion clouded Alan's gaze.

"Nora." Thom answered, as Aislinn reentered and resumed her position in the front of the room.

Alan stewed through protest after protest and memory after memory during Aislinn's second set. Though her performance was just as talented as before, the squire took no pleasure in the music. When the songstress blew kisses at the audience and promised a return in ten minutes, he finally replied. "Nora doesn't like me in that way. She likes infuriating Lia and Aly."

"Oh?" Thom asked skeptically.

"Aly formed a madcap idea about me and Lia years ago. Well, maybe not so mad. It irritated Nora supremely—you know how those two always were. And so Nora flirts with me just to annoy our sisters."

Thom raised and dropped a shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. But think about it."

"I will." Alan promised. "I'll have plenty of time to do it over the next month."

"If it helps, I think the Queen and Da are on your side. They know that the Maren is a fool, and Thayet vowed years ago not to send any of her children to a situation where there's no chance for happiness."

Alan nodded a little. "It's just that I know that when I see her in Carthak she won't be able to run to me and hold onto me for her life. Their rules are like the Bazhir's, and single women of good reputation don't touch men who aren't blood relatives." Thom nodded comprehension. "And heaven knows how I'll find time alone with her, to find out what she wants."

Thom laughed. "Don't look so miserable."

"Wouldn't you?" Alan asked. "At least you know where you stand with your lady."

"Yes and no." Thom tilted his head. "Part of the problem in any relationship is that you never know totally where your partner stands. Like that pearl that Linn's wearing. There's no way tips bought that, but no one gives a jewel that generous without expecting some kind of payment."

"She's not warming another man's bed." Alan assured his brother. "That's Gramma's pearl. Aly's Crow-man nicked it during her little holiday in the Copper Isles. So either Gramma gave it to you and you left it somewhere and Linn found it, or Gramma sent it to Linn in a sort of endorsement or Gramma gave it to Da to give to your girl and Linn hasn't found a way to tell you yet."

Thom made a face. "Why wouldn't she tell me that my family likes her?"

"Do you spend a lot of time complaining how mad we all are? She might be concerned that you'll think they're mad for liking her."

Thom smiled a little. "And here I thought I was helping you tonight."

"Of course, she might have told you and you forgot." Ever practical Alan added.

"I think I'd remember something like that." Thom said sourly.

"Like you remember to fill your inkstand and empty your wastebasket?" Alan smirked.

Thom flicked something across the table at his brother, and the boys enjoyed a moment of friendly horseplay.

"I feel stupid for worrying about this, but how should I act when we see each other again? Me and Lia, that is."

"Let her guide you. It'll depend on how formal it is, who else is there, you know, all that."

Alan sighed glumly.

"Your other concern, of course, is how to tell Liam that you and his baby sister are changing the nature of the friendship that exists between all three of you."

Alan looked prepared to bash his own head against a wall. "I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up."

"It's kind of obvious he doesn't know already, and the longer you wait the worse it will be." Thom advised kindly.

"Well, I can always say I wasn't sure there was anything to tell, which is true enough, and that it wasn't news I wanted to put in a letter."

"But is that the truth?" Thom pressed. "Sort it out in your own mind."

"Well, how would you feel if Neal had come to you while he was still mother's squire and announced that he was interested in Aly?"

"It didn't happen." Thom said vigorously.

"But if it had?" Alan pressed.

"It didn't."

"Pretend it did. Call it a though experiment."

"I would have felt..." Thom searched for the word "betrayed, maybe. I took him to heart, almost like an extra brother, and such a relationship would have abused the trust I put in him."

"Even though you knew he was a good man."

"Even though." Thom agreed. "But it did not happen."

"And when Aly brought that bird-brained creature back home, how did you react?"

"It's different. She was vulnerable there, with none of us to defend her. Despite his eccentricities he came through for her. He didn't allow anyone to harm her, and he didn't force anything on her. And she loves him."

"You respected him as Aly's companion because that's how he was introduced to you. You don't like it when people break out of the little boxes you assign them to."

"Your logic is a bit flawed, though I catch your drift." Thom frowned. "A potential negative reaction to a hypothetical relationship between Neal and our sister has less to do with his position and more to do with his personality. I would've reacted badly to Neal and Aly because I know that he tended to fall violently in and out of love, while Aly preferred to just have fun. It would've been a disaster. He would have become obsessed with writing poetry to her quick wit and golden hair until she smashed his heart by getting bored...no, much better that they are just friends."

"Plus there's the idea that it might've worked and they would have wed. Can you imagine what monsters they'd breed?" Alan winced at the idea of a cross between his twin and Neal of Queenscove.

"The children would never survive to adulthood. They'd have their tongues cut out." Thom predicted.

"Or have their ears boxed to deafness by frustrated people who couldn't keep up."

The brothers shared a moment of companionship and laughter at the thought.

"But what do you think of Nawat as her life's partner?" Alan pressed.

Thom frowned, sighed. "We're not like Liam and Lia, or Roald and Kalasin." He said finally. "We love each other, but we're not involved in one another's lives in the same way."

"That's not an answer."

"I mean that I love her, but I'm not going to tell her how to live." Thom said finally.

Alan grimaced. "How are she and Mother getting on?" He asked.

Thom's eyes shadowed, and he did not answer.

"What?" Alan demanded. "You know something, and you don't want to tell me. What is it?"

Thom sighed. "She's your twin, the right to tell falls to her, not to me."

"But I won't see her for at least two months, and you're here now."

Thom swallowed a mouthful of ale. "Aly and Nawat have decided to return to the Copper Isles."

Alan let out a breath as though he'd been struck with a staff during a practice round. "When?" He gritted.

"They're leaving before Samhain." Thom said, with compassion.

"It's a mad time to begin a journey." Alan mumbled. "How long have you known?"

"During Da's last trip to the city she and Nawat came to see him and the king. A last report, of sorts. She doesn't think she should've left Mother guilt her into coming home."

"When was I to know? After the ship had sailed?" Alan demanded, stung at the loss of his twin.

"She sent you letters, but I guess they've been chasing you and Lord Raoul across the North." Thom said. "I am sorry you had to find out from me."

Aislinn reemerged, but this time bells were attached at every gather along the skirt, up to a clever belt. Tiny finger cymbals graced her hands. Aislinn used her entire body as an instrument, creating beauty for the eyes with her dance and for the ears with the bells and her voice. Alan saw how captivated his brother was by the dark beauty. The younger brother felt a moment's sympathy for the girl. Midwinter with the Coopers...what had this girl done to deserve such a fate?

"This is why you think Linn can come home at Midwinter. Mother by herself can be handled, but in conjunction with Aly..." Alan tried not to think about bringing home a girl to the volatile combination of his mother and sister.

"Putting the two of them under the same roof is like putting a spark and blazebalm on opposite sides of a room." Thom said frankly. "You hope like hell that one doesn't set off the other, but you always know that the very real possibility is there."

The song she sang was about a girl, longing for her beloved, who left home to become a warrior. Though the text of the song was about longing, Alan thought it really spoke about the loss of childhood. This soldier had seen the kraken, and there was no going back. Alan had heard many versions of the song. Some ended with the warrior's death and the girl's heartbreak, others with his return to his village to find the girl dead at the hands of the army he had fought. Still other versions ended with the soldier returning home to find the girl an unwilling bride to an older man, with a child that probably belonged to the soldier. And one version ended with the death of the soldier's wife, after their wedding.

Aislinn sang a version in which the girl died at the hands of the army, but their child, born after the father went to war, lived to welcome his Da home. She sang it with incurable melancholy that left tears in the eyes of patrons who had been drinking heavily.

Then, she switched tempos to a merry drinking song. As if on cue, serving maids appeared at every table with full pitchers. The Laughing Lark became a noisy hive of confusion as patrons, drunk and on their way, lifted and emptied tankards along with the rhythm and sang along with the lively lilting voice of the Player. Despite his disturbed state of mind, Alan joined the enthusiastic applause at the end of the song. Aislinn laughed, clearly enjoying the attention. "Now lads, is that any way to treat a lass who's thirsty?" She teased. "Who'll buy us a drink, then?"

"If you'll leave that bookish boy, I'll buy ye more than a drink!" A man Alan recognized as a follower of the Rogue offered enthusiastically.

"None of that now." Aislinn put her hands on her hips and her laughter pealed like a flirtatious song. "My bookish boy is here tonight, and he won't like that sort of talk."

Thom made a signal and the maid who had failed to flirt with Alan earlier that night brought Aislinn a cup of tea. The singer drained it, blew a kiss in Thom's direction and said, "In thanks for the drink, I'd like to sing his favorite song."

Alan looked curiously at Thom. "Does this happen often?" He whispered.

Aislinn cleared her throat and warbled out notes, effortlessly as the lark that gave the bar its name. Alan startled to realize that she was singing "Rosie at the river," a silly little ditty about a girl in the first blush of love examining her reflection in a rushing river. But the song did not end where Alan was accustomed to hearing it end. It continued with the girl fearing that her life was rushing away as fast as the river water, and that her looks would desert her, as would her beloved. The melody changing from childish and joyful to piercing and panicky, as the singer used ragged breaths to reveal the emotion of the speaker.

Just when Alan thought the song was over, Thom shocked him by standing and joining Aislinn in the middle of the floor. He sang the last verse to her, an assurance that his love would not fade if her looks did, but would instead continue to flow, as the river never stopped. Alan felt his jaw drop. He had never imagined that Thom could sing, and here he sounded as good as any Player or traveling minstrel. Alan led the applause for the couple, which they accepted graciously, as their due. It was clear that performances of this nature were familiar to the Lark's regulars.

Aislinn sang an encore alone, a rollicking tune about a pretty girl on market day that allowed the audience to participate by banging mugs cheerfully along with the chorus. At the end of the performance, Thom took Aislinn's hand and led her through the bustling room to the table where Alan was sitting. The squire rose as they approached. "Alan, I want you to meet the most talented bard in the Eastern Lands, Aislinn Goldtone. Linn, this is my younger brother, Alan."

The Player made a polite little curtsy. Alan bowed, then took her hand and brushed the back with his lips. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He said.

She smiled, allowed Thom to pull out her chair, and swept her skirts around her in a fan so graceful that Queen Thayet herself might have envied the gesture. "And you. Your brother has told me so much about you." Her voice was soft, like whispering silk. It was so different from her performing voice that Alan was startled. It was difficult to believe that a throat that made such a soft sound could also produce a sound loud enough to fill a room.

The brothers sat, Thom to her right, Alan to her left. "Lies, all, I assure you." Alan grinned at his brother. "And I must say, what my brother did say about you did not do you justice. Your performance was nothing short of remarkable."

Thom handed Aislinn a mug that seemed to have materialized in his hand. She sipped at the liquid gratefully. "Thank you." Alan wasn't sure if she liked his compliment or the drink Thom had procured for her. "I would've sung a Lioness ballad if I had known you'd be here." She almost scolded.

"He didn't know I'd be here." Alan defended his brother.

"He's been on the road for days and he's a long journey still to go. I know you wouldn't want me to send away a traveler with a parched throat." Thom touched his lover's arm.

"I just don't want your brother to carry the tale that the three vices of the city have seduced you from your studies." Her dark eyes and her dimples danced.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Alan teased. "Far from it. I laud your success. The combination of wine, women and song seems to be essential—I always just tried wine to corrupt him."

Thom rolled his eyes. "I am still present. You should wait to discuss my flaws till I'm absent."

"So what brings you to Corus?" Aislinn asked briskly.

"My knight master and I needed fresh horses to continue our journey South." Alan said. "I thought I should look up my brother, see if I could get him into any trouble while I was around."

"He means he wanted to see if I could get him out of trouble." Thom mock whispered.

"So did you send a note?"

"No, I literally showed up on his doorstep, I'm afraid."

"Oh gods, I knew I should've picked up the room instead of studying for that exam on variations of the tale of Old King Jasson and the Black City." Linn made a face that Alan liked. "I hope you don't think we live like that normally."

"The thought never crossed my mind." Alan lied. He knew very well that Thom preferred a cluttered jumble of papers, scrolls, arcane artifacts and oddities to any form of organization. Alan could tell already that Aislinn lived life in a state of perpetual chaos, which was naturally reflected in her living habits.

Aislinn sipped her tea gratefully. "What time is your exam tomorrow?" She quizzed Thom.

"Ten." Thom said. "Scrying tools. Crystals vs. still water vs. mirrors vs. fire. The same debate that has raged since mages found out that there was more than one way to see the world."

"Which do you prefer?" Un-gifted Alan asked.

"Mirrors." Thom said, immediately. "Fire is more powerful, but less reliable. Crystals are more for communication than scrying. And still water is more trouble than it's worth."

Aislinn giggled. "Everyone think that the polished pretty mirror in our room is my vanity for paints and such. It's not, it's for his magic."

Feeling very much an outsider in his brother's life, Alan nodded. "I'll be departing at sunrise, so I should leave. I'm hoping to drop in on another friend this evening."

Thom rose and clapped his brother in a fierce hug. "Think about what I said." He ordered. "But don't waste time."

Alan departed. He wandered through the Lower City to the Temple District. He ambled up to the Palace and found his way to Liam's quarters in the hall reserved for the royal family. The prince's room was painfully tidy and obviously empty. Alan swallowed disappointment. Liam was a knight now; he must be on the way to Galla to meet their princess. And he would have no way of knowing that Alan was traveling South. Communication would have to wait till Alan returned from Carthak.

He was about to retrace his steps to Raoul's rooms, when the door to the suite that belonged to Roald and his wife opened. The crown-prince stepped into the hall. "Alan." The reserved man offered the squire a smile. "I was hoping to see you."

"Your Highness." Alan made a quick bow.

Roald waved at him. "That's not necessary." He assured his old friend.

Alan stood for a moment, awkwardly wondering why the prince had stopped him. Their families were friends, but Alan and Roald had never been particularly close.

"Liam left for Galla." Roald began.

"I assumed. Liam never leaves things that clean."

"Yes." Roald agreed. "That's true."

Alan waited again.

"I was wondering if you would bring something to my sister for me? Without looking at it or telling the entire Court?"

"Of course." Alan said, thinking that soon he would be recruiting Copper Isles ambassadors to give little packets to Aly and her children. "If it's not too big."

"It's just a letter and a small painting." Roald slipped it out of a pocket. "I have a matching version of the painting. To help us remember good times." He said.

Alan nodded. "Do you miss Kalasin?" He asked, keenly aware that he probably wouldn't see his own sister again for many years, unless Liam married a Copper Islander queen.

"Yes." Roald said simply. "She was home, the keeper of half my memories, as I am for her." He smiled, almost as though reading Alan's thoughts. "But I'm grateful that she married a good man, who loves her and takes care of her."

"I'll make sure she gets the painting." Alan said, though it seemed so inadequate.

"I heard that Aly's leaving. I'm sorry."

"I am too." Alan said. "But truth to tell, I'm not surprised."

"The place changed her, didn't it?" Roald asked.

"Yes. She didn't even think she would fit here anymore, but she came back to try because Mother asked."

"How's your mother reacting?"

"I don't know." Alan said. "But if you hear about a great number of bandits who are terrified into surrendering themselves to King's justice, don't ask too many questions."

Roald nodded.

"How's Shinko?" Alan asked. "Lia and Kalasin will want to know."

"Very well. She refuses to leave the baby for more than an hour at a time, though." The Prince said. His wife had delivered a daughter since Buri and Lianne departed for Carthak. It was something of a disappointment that Tortallan succession was not yet assured, but her parents could find no fault with that angelic baby.

Alan grinned. "Congratulations." He murmured.

"Thank you." Roald said graciously. "One other thing."

"Yes?" Alan wondered what on earth they could still have to discuss.

"Take good care of my sisters." Roald instructed the squire. "I entrust their safety to you for the duration of your time with them."

The squire startled a little. "Why me?"

"You know what it is to have a sister far away. And you already watch after Lia. This just gives you an extra reason. Don't forget to deliver the package." Roald reminded Alan of the wrapped box he still held.

"Say hello to your wife for me." Alan requested. "And kiss the baby. And warn her that little boys are big trouble, especially Rikash Salmalin."

"I will." Roald took Alan's hand and shook it firmly.

The squire found his way back to Raoul's rooms, shaking his head over the strange conversations. The big knight was sitting at the desk with columns of figures, double-checking requisitions for the King's Own. Alan pulled up a chair and began to help without being asked.

"How was your visit with Thom?" Raoul asked, after he finished a particularly large column.

Alan shrugged. "He's living with a girl in the lower city. He's surviving on magic and books. He seems to think that if he ignores reality long enough, it will go away."

"If only." Raoul yawned.

"Reality is remarkably persistent; he won't be able to ignore it forever." Alan said pensively.

"What reality do you mean?" Raoul asked.

"It's too late to philosophize." Alan complained.

Raoul smiled. "Fetch some juice, squire, and we'll have a chat."

Alan did so. "You're not surprised that he's living with someone."

"Yes, and no. It was only a matter of time before he realized that pretty young women think a rich young mage an attractive catch."

"I think he's in love with this one, not just having fun." Alan reflected.

"And her?" Raoul asked.

"Thinking about the next song, or dress, or jewel, or exam. Not a care for the future. She's having fun with him. Don't know if it's love for her."

Raoul nodded. "You're worried about Thom."

"He introduced her to Gramma and Cythera and Gary and Da. He's bringing her home at Midwinter. I think he's considering marrying her."

"But your mother hasn't heard that she exists yet?" Raoul asked.

"I haven't heard the scream or felt the earthquake, so I'm guessing no."

"She didn't react so badly to Aly and that Nawat fellow, did she?"

"It's all relative really. But Aly isn't the oldest and Aly didn't shack up with Nawat in a boarding house."

"You don't approve?" The big knight asked mildly.

"I don't know. I would, if I thought Thom wasn't blind to the fact that Aislinn doesn't look at him and see forever."

"He said something else that upset you." Raoul observed.

Alan jumped. "I swear, Aly taught you and Thom that trick before she left."

"No, I picked it up on my own." Raoul said. "It's a useful habit for a commander, you must admit."

Alan propped his chin on his fist. "You forgot to carry a two here." He critiqued a column of figures.

"Fine, let it wait." Raoul shrugged. "We've a month of traveling together, you'll tell me your troubles, never fear."


	9. Birth

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 8/?

Author: Kate, 

Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.

Rating: Strong PG-13 to light R –

Author's Notes: Description of Kalasin's labor is more suggestive than graphic, but if you have an active imagination, as I tend to believe readers do, this might make you squeamish. Many of my facts come from helping a friend who is a nursing major study for a final on labor and delivery and from talking to another friend who had a baby on the 19th of this month.

Also, this chapter is a combination of two. Buri and Lianne couldn't decide if they wanted their own chapter. For a while they did, but then they wouldn't talk, so the highlights of their conversation are interwoven in this chapter. I think that there is a spoiler for Trickster's Queen in this chapter as well—I mention one of Kaddar's relatives from that book in this chapter. As always, feedback is adored.

Ch 8

Buri used a poker to adjust the position of a log, which was burning a bit too high to heat her tea. The flames were too cool to cook anything, so she had to concentrate the heat. Plus, the hungry tongues of light threatened to scorch the painted flowers right off the delicate little teapot, which had been waiting for her and Lianne in the central room of their quarters upon their arrival.

Buri knew that Kalasin's mother-in-law and the palace servants disapproved of the teapot. Most of them assumed that nobles didn't know a cooking implement from a chamber pot, and were suspicious of anyone who belied that axiom. By its presence Buri read Kalasin's desire for her guest's comfort, and her position as true mistress of her home. She may have left daily details to Varice Kingsford, but Kalasin knew exactly what happened in her home. The Empress was a thoughtful hostess. She remembered many small details of the preferences of her childhood and adolescent friends, including Buri's fondness for strong tea in the mornings.

A small box of the warrior's favorite green tea sat next to a sweet fruit and berry blend that Lianne had enjoyed as a child. Though the princess didn't say anything to Buri or to her sister, it underscored the growth that had occurred during their separation. It wasn't an event worth noticing long enough to mention in a coded letter, but Lia had long outgrown her fondness for the overly sweet tea. Its presence here reminded Lianne that she was not the same little girl who had crawled into bed beside her older sister when lightning flickered and Stormwing scent drifted through the windows. By the same token, Kalasin was not the same girl who had comforted her little sister's fears and whispered stories so Lianne could rest.

Buri looked around the elegantly comfortable sitting room, allowing her eyes to light on the objects within. The Tortallan delegation had found a few books "casually" left in each bedroom. The rooms were relatively simple by Imperial standards, but elegant and clean. Lianne's walls were hung with rose and pink drapes, almost like a fairy bower from a minstrel's tale. The pink walls were broken by two good paintings. One was a depiction of Old One's burial pyramids, deep in the desert. It was a commentary on the inevitable erosion time wreaked on everything, even those who feared and fought aging.

A Tyran genius had traveled to Carthak to study artistic techniques at the world famous university when he was just fourteen years old. He had painted the scene at eighteen when he had learned what the Carthaki masters had to teach him. The Emperor had claimed the painting as his tax on the young Tyran's time at the University, so the Tyran had left it and returned to his home. It was widely accepted that the Tyran had gotten the better of the bargain, as he had brought home the secret to closely guarded art techniques and materials, but the Tyran had never painted another landscape, claiming he could never recreate the power of that place and that moment. The painting was quite literally priceless to art lovers and historians. Lianne boggled a bit every time she truly stopped to look at it.

The other painting in the room was a delicately rendered oil, done by a Gallan who had also studied at the university. The artist was less famous than the Tyran, but the Gallan was well regarded for bringing oil paints from Tusaine and the Eastern Lands to the South. It was lit in the style of a Chardin and showed two little girls helping their mother to spin and weave. It was a study for a more famous allegorical painting, which Lia had always admired in the great art books of the palace library. It was a casual, almost careless display of wealth, to leave such a priceless object in a guest room. Lianne had lived a privileged life as the Princess of a large, healthy nation, but the extravagances of these simple quarters left her a bit unsettled.

Though Lianne understood that Kalasin meant the paintings in the spirit of sharing a rare treat with her sister, the princess also understood that the Empire had recovered financially from Daine's temper tantrum more than a decade earlier. Their census was taken, their taxes gathered, their inventories of treasures established. Though Lianne knew that Kally would never wish to fight her family, the display of wealth showed that Carthak had regained its power as a strong ally or a dreadful enemy. Lianne also realized that the subtle message might not have originated with her sister. Kalasin couldn't personally oversee every detail of their suite. But who else would know of the princess's delight in these particular paintings? It was a troubling puzzle—was she being warned about Carthaki wealth or receiving a rare opportunity to study the work of Gallan and Tyran masters? It hurt her head to contemplate the possibilities. She had little of Aly's subtlety and none of Nora's delight in playing Court games.

Buri's room was wrapped in soothing blues and greens, but it was not cluttered with knickknacks and paintings and valuables the way Lianne's room was. Though an outsider would read it as a nod to Lianne's status as Princess or as a snub to the warrior, Buri understood that it was Kalasin's recognition of her simple tastes. Buri did not scorn luxury. She had slept enough nights in fields and forests to appreciate beds, but she preferred the kind of practical luxuries that most nobles took for granted. She enjoyed wearing dry clothes that fit her well and eating warm or cool meals that she didn't catch, skin, and cook herself. Indoor privies and hot baths felt almost decadent in comparison to hand dug trenches and icy streams.

Buri had little use for art, but she enjoyed books (though not with the same fervor as a scholar). One book that Buri found in her room was a detailed and illustrated retelling of K'miri legends, with special emphasis on the horse lords. An appendix, written in a precise hand hypothesized on connections between the four Horse Lords and the Carthaki wind deities. Attention had been called to the fact after Emperor Kaddar's stallion, Westwind, bred with Empress Kalasin's mare, Chavi, to produce the foal Bian. Buri found herself impressed by the filly's bloodline, and made a mental note to speak to the horse trainer in greater detail about the filly's future.

Buri was surprised to see that the author of the appendix was Kaddar's sister, Countess Nadereh of Vasha and Iliniat. Kalasin had mentioned the woman sadly, as though she regretted what had passed between them. At the time of Buri and Lia's arrival in Carthak, Nadereh had been participating in a summer research project far to the South with her children. The countess and her daughter and younger son had returned for Fazia's annual University banquet, some days before.

Buri and Lianne were hosting a sewing party, a fact that Buri felt sure would cause laughter at home. Buri knew how to sew and mend, but her fingers were accustomed to twisting lengths of leather together and rough patching or mending required on the road, not to the fancywork of embroidery and tapestry making.

Little Alina, Nadereh's daughter and Kalasin's niece, was sitting on a stool beside a setee, carefully practicing her needlework. The girl had more patience for working with the thread than Buri expected, but the girl was still a child, and (in Buri's opinion) spending a day indoors with a pregnant aunt, a quiet mother, a critical grandmother, two strangers and a housekeeping mage couldn't be very interesting. Right now, the girl was playing with one of her long braids and waiting to try some of the sweet pink tea.

Buri had received the impression that Kalasin had been surprised by the cool reception from Kaddar's family and Court. Buri felt a twinge of guilt. Whose fault was that?Her conscience gnawed, as she sliced bread for toasting, ignoring Varice and Fazia's mild disapproval—Fazia for the work, Varice for the relatively rough style in which it was done. You only promised her a thousand times that they would love her as much as you and Thayet and Cythera. You only told her not to worry, that rumors lied about Carthaki superficiality. You only convinced her that there would be intelligent compassionate women anywhere she went, that she could find and befriend them.

Nadereh of Vasha and Iliniat was undoubtedly intelligent. She had scrabbled up through Carthaki and academic elitism to earn a place as a scholar. She had married a professor, her primary advisor, and had become his partner in every area of life. She had borne three children before a fever widowed her, and now she continued her husband's work. But while ideal scholars shared knowledge and built off one another's ideas and experimented to create new theories, Nadereh had worked alone since her husband's death. She jealously guarded her reputation as the premier scholar in her corner of the field of bardic arts. She expended enormous effort to keep her work and processes a secret. She left little time for friendships, or even her children.

Buri understood that the Carthaki countess had retreated into her work after her husband and oldest son were taken to the Black God by the same fever one year before. That she took the time to notice her brother and sister-in-law's horses and their names and a connection between their disparate heritages struck Buri as a peculiar softness, though the use of the knowledge to produce a remote piece of writing was perfectly in character for the academic who isolated herself from companionship by choice.

Nadereh's two remaining children spent their days in the capital with a nanny and tutors, while they spent the long days of the expedition whining about the heat. Though Buri didn't know it, the girl, Alina, had vowed to be a priestess for the Great Mother and then a noble wife, never an academic. She spent many days with her grandmother, learning the management of great households. Whenever permitted, she tagged along on Varice's heels, adopting certain mannerisms and absorbing ideas constantly. Alina showed some talent with thread and kitchen magics, which pleased her grandmother. If Nadereh felt disappointment with her daughter's inclinations, she didn't show it. She reacted very little to her daughter, which was why Alina preferred the company of Varice and Na-Na, who both fussed over her fine looks and pretty manners and clothes and interest in women's work.

The younger son, Farouk, claimed that he wanted to earn a position as a knight, but the boy really needed to escape his mother and his brother's memory, which dogged him as a ghost. Gazanoi had planned to follow his parents to the university, so Farouk would go to the palace for the opposite path. Though Fazia reprimanded her daughter for it, every scolding Nadereh uttered included the phrase "Gazanoi would never have ," with the blank filled by whatever infraction the boy had committed (playing ball in the house, leaving his shoes in front of the door, speaking disrespectfully to a tutor, etc.)

Buri was troubled by the puzzle of Nadereh. Surely she was lonely sometimes? The K'mir understood that grief could consume one's attention, but even before the loss of husband and son, Nadereh had kept women who would befriend her at a distance. Buri wondered if Kaddar's sister assumed that all Court ladies were superficial and unworthy of conversation, or if she feared manipulation, or if she simply preferred men's company? Buri herself had little use for the type of female who believed herself useless or incomplete without a man, but she understood that women who chose life at Court did not lose their individuality or their talent for outside pursuits.

Varice Kingsford was a prime example. The pretty blond had received any number of marriage proposals, but she had elected to serve as hostess and housekeeper for the Emperor Mage and then for Kaddar and Kalasin. Though Kalasin now performed the duties of a hostess, she relied on Varice for day-to-day management and party planning and advice. Against the odds, the pretty mage with a penchant for pink, who had so thoroughly irritated Daine, had befriended the Empress.

Though in the beginning Varice was in her thirties and Kalasin was only eighteen, the women had discovered a common interest in certain types of sewing. They had begun meeting once a week to discuss household business, and would bring work with them to keep their hands busy as they spoke. Eventually, the tradition evolved to a regular weekly sewing party. Sometimes, noble women were invited to attend, sometimes healers or priestesses, but Kalasin and Varice agreed it was a positive step towards a women's culture in Carthak.

While she had daydreamed over the puzzle of Kalasin's sister-in-law and housekeeper, the water had boiled. Though technically it was Kalasin's home, since Buri and Lianne were hosting the sewing party, they prepared and served the tea.

"That's a lovely piece you're working on." Lianne commented to Varice. The women had removed their veils, since no men were present. It was a symbol of the women's culture and of being among friends to allow others to see the face. It was also a bow to practicality—it was hot and the veils made it hard to see well to do fine embroidery.

"Thank you." Varice said, holding up the baby outfit for all to see. "I thought the prince or princess might wear it on his or her Naming Day." She said, almost shyly.

Fazia emitted a scandalized sound. "That will not be necessary; I will provide something appropriate."

Buri and Lianne looked to Kalasin. The Empress's face tightened. "The gown Varice has made is lovely." Kalasin touched a finger to the fine fabric. "Perhaps he can wear this to the Naming Day, if you will provide something for the ceremony in which we announce that he is our heir?"

They turned to Fazia, as if watching a tennis match. Kalasin had done an admirable job of returning that volley. The Emperor's mother inclined her head.

Varice smiled. "So, Lady Lina, what are you working on this morning?"

The small girl eagerly showed a handkerchief that she had hemmed and embroidered. "It's for Farouk." She explained. "For when he starts being a page. In case he sweats, and needs to get it out of his eyes."

"How thoughtful." Kalasin praised. "And you've put on his initials. What a good idea."

Nadereh said nothing, but Fazia smiled at her granddaughter. "Your brother will be very pleased to have something made by his sister."

Buri puttered around the room, as though looking for something.

"Did you misplace this?" Lianne asked wickedly, holding up a workbasket.

Buri managed not to groan. She was in no mood to waste her own time with fussy work, so she selected some yarn and began to work it into a blanket. Quiet conversation flowed, but overall the mood was slightly awkward.

Fazia was still horrified over Lianne's stunt on horseback and disturbed that Buri had sliced the bread herself. Alina was profoundly impressed. Lianne had ridden bareback, K'miri style, carrying a crossbow. The horse had galloped at breakneck speed, while Lianne shot at targets. She hit every one, without losing her seat or her breath.

Nadereh had simply nodded, as though such events were not particularly uncommon or worthy of note. Buri and Kalasin had been enthusiastic supporters, while Varice had kept a hand over her heart, worrying.

Buri and Lianne were having trouble finding good words for one another, after their heated talk that morning.

"It's true, I'm not soft. But I'm glad you had so many strong women to see as you grew—you got to see that there are many ways to be strong, almost all equally valid." Buri responded to Lianne.

"But not all equally effective." The princess picked up a skein of yarn and began to work at winding it more tightly.

Buri looked at the girl in front of her, sorting out the bad mood and the fifteen-year-old need to assert independence and personhood from the truth. "Your mother and Alanna convinced themselves that they could do and have it all—work, men and children. They believed they could be the best in every area, and I honestly believe they did the best anyone could. Their methods may be unconventional, but you all turned into strong, independent, good young men and women. And even if some of you have no earthly idea about what you're going to do with the rest of your lives, that's okay. I didn't know ten years ago where I would be today."

Lianne grinned. "We kind of thought you were single for life, and look at you now. You surrendered the Riders to Evin Larse and you married the commander of the King's Own. Tell me, are you going to ride with them carrying a baby in your arms?"

"In a sling on my back." Buri deadpanned. "Yes, I "retired." But I'm K'miri, and we fight until we die." She evaluated Lianne's dark hair and hazel eyes. "I don't know if your mother and I did much to help you appreciate that part of your heritage."

Lia sighed. "I get it, I get it. Women can be soft and strong. We can choose, we can have love and duty united. I've heard the stories all my life." In a petulant gesture, she shut the lid of her sewing box and set it aside. She pulled her knees to her chest and bowed her head.

"You don't believe them." Buri observed, with raised eyebrow. She wasn't much for drama or hysterics—if Lianne were looking for an audience, Buri was not about to oblige.

"Kally didn't get to choose love before she chose duty." Lianne finally answered.

"She didn't. But she found love and she's making a life here."

"What kind of life?" Lianne demanded angrily. "She's pregnant but she works like a horse and gets no credit. She doesn't have any real women friends—only servants who are awed and nobles who are jealous. Varice comes closest, but she can't converse on equal footing about much more than cooking and making things pretty. And yeah, Kally is surrounded by fabulous wealth, but do you see her enjoying any of it? I'll give you that she loves Kaddar. She even likes him, most of the time anyway. But she's not comfortable with him. They're strangers even though they're lovers. Is that the wonderful thing she learned from you and Mother and Cythera and Alanna and Daine and Eleni and all the others?" Lianne demanded. "It's just not right. Kally wanted to be a knight, Papa should have let her."

"Did she really want it?" Buri popped the growing balloon of Lianne's anger with a soft, even question.

"Of course." Lianne said. It was one of the truths of her life: Kally sacrificed her personal dreams to Tortall and peace.

"Really?" Buri pressed. "If she had truly set her heart, do you think one long conversation with your father would have dissuaded her?"

Lianne frowned. "You mean to say she didn't really want it and Papa gave her a way out?"

"I mean to say that Kally was enormously eager to please, and she saw that it delighted her mother and Alanna and even me when she said she wanted to be the next Lady Knight. For a while, she probably believed that she wanted to do it. But she didn't have that fierce, obsessive, single-minded determination. If she had had it, Jonathan never could have dissuaded her. I believe your father merely laid his cards on the table about his goals and hopes for her, and then he asked her to examine her true life's ambitions without her mother and I clamoring that he was distracting her from what she really wanted." Buri shrugged. "Of course, it's also possible that he frightened her out of trying it by telling war stories. But does that sound like your father to you?"

Lianne pouted, but conceded. "Not really."

"Tell the truth, did he ever stop your trick riding?"

"No, but he flinches every time he sees me mount up."

"And he doesn't flinch when he sees Roald in armor, or Liam with sword in hand?" Buri stood. "You don't have to agree with me today. Just think about whether you're angry on Kalasin's behalf or your own."

Buri sat again, and poured out another measure of tea. She waited.

"I don't mean to be unfair," Lia confessed. "It's just," She tried to articulate her problem, then burst out with "I hated the prince in Maren. He was stupid and he isn't fit to guide a country and I don't ever want to marry him or let him touch me. He stinks, always, of drink and cologne to cover it."

Buri nodded, not sympathetically, but in understanding.

Lianne grimaced. "How was Kally so calm? I panic at the thought of spending the rest of my life in that country, with him. I was so grateful when Mama agreed to let me come with you here, just because it's at least six months that the marriage has to be delayed. But now that I've seen Kalasin's life here, I'm even more frightened. I only want a comfortable life: good friends, food, horses, and such. What if I don't make any friends there? Liam and Alan can't visit me every summer. Kally went four years without us. But look at these rooms—she had to think about us a lot. She didn't even know exactly who was coming, but these rooms are custom made for us."

Buri did look around the rooms and considered their suite. The books and paintings and tea spoke volumes about Kalasin's loneliness and thoughtfulness.

Buri sat next to Lianne on the sofa. "It's all right to be afraid. But your situation is very different than Kalasin's. Your sister was calm because she was well prepared. From the time she was ten or eleven, Carthak was negotiating for her hand in marriage. She studied to become Empress for the same amount of time many study to become knights. And then on another note, she didn't fall in love with anyone in Tortall." Buri began to get closer to what she really wanted to discuss with Lianne.

The princess shied away. "She was in love with Tortall itself." Lianne said. "The trees and the earth at home, the sea in the east, the desert in the South and the snow in the North. There wasn't one man, there was the entire country."

Buri replied, "Trust your parents to see the Maren prince for what he is and trust them to trust Liam and Alan and Lord Martin."

"What if they can't convince them that Maren is not my place?" Lianne asked. "Most of us go all our lives without speaking to the gods, but I know that a lifetime in the breadbasket of the Eastern Lands is not my fate. I'll die first."

Buri rolled her eyes at the fifteen-year-old's drama. "So what passed in Maren between you and Squire Alan?" Buri asked, curious despite herself.

Lianne groaned. "Nothing!" She insisted. "Why would you ask?"

"Well, since you found out that he and Raoul are traveling here, your moods have been…" Buri searched for a polite word, "unpredictable," She found. "Is it because he reminds you of Maren?"

"No! Alan and Liam were the best parts of my time there. Some of my favorite memories are of walking with him-them- along the wheat fields and talking about everything and nothing."

"You don't want to talk to me about how you feel about Alan, do you?" Buri's teeth glinted in a quick smile.

Lianne blushed. "You're right, we really shouldn't be late."

"I rather thought that you were interested in Thom, since you flew off the handle whenever Nora flirted with him."

"I did not fly off the handle." Lianne looked stung.

Buri gave her a long, measuring glance. Lianne felt as she has when she was eight years old and had been caught helping Liam smuggle the puppy Bean into the royal nursery.

"Well, maybe a little tiny bit. But it wasn't because it was Thom. He's not interested in marrying a royal girl—not interested in marrying anybody for a good number of years. Since Alan earned some more freedom and privileges, he has accompanied Thom and Thom's University buddies to the City. Apparently, the University lads have just discovered wine, women and song."

Buri smiled a little. "Thom's mother will be delighted, I'm sure."

"Baron George has been trying to convince her that he's well brought up." Lia smiled.

"You're not answering me." Buri teased.

"I didn't get angry because Nora flirted with Thom. I got angry because she could flirt and I can't. I can't do it without meaning something a little more serious, and I don't want to flirt with anyone but Alan." Lianne stood up suddenly. "We're late. And Kally wants you to reason with the horse trainer and she's going to let me do some trick riding to show her niece that learning how to be physically active is not unladylike."

Lianne certainly had shown Alina a thing or two on horseback, Buri reflected, though the conservatives would probably be moralizing the tale for the next three generations.

Suddenly, Kalasin gasped and doubled forward in her chair. Her cup of tea fell and smashed. Tea splashed on the carpet. Buri tossed aside her work to kneel next to the Empress. "What is it?"

Varice came to attention, setting her china cup down more decorously. "Have your pains begun?"

"It's too soon." Kalasin's blue eyes locked onto Buri's. "It's too soon." She insisted, panic entering her voice.

"How long?" Nadereh grabbed her sister-in-law's arm with a grip like a vice.

"Breathe." Buri coached, trying to suggest the Nadereh loosen her grip.

"Part of last night and most of the morning. The pains have been coming closer together and stronger, but it can't be time yet." Kalasin insisted. "There's at least a month left. I'm not ready."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Fazia demanded, the saucer and cup clicking together.

"I didn't want to raise a false alarm." Kalasin said. "The hospital dedication is an important ceremony, and the due date is far away. Why would I send for Kaddar at such a great distance before I was sure?" She winced.

"Are you sure now?" Lianne asked, in awe.

"Yes. The water broke." Kalasin tried to sit upright.

Fazia fluttered and Alina jumped up in great excitement. "Is it time for my cousin to come?" She hopped up and down.

Lianne grabbed the door handle. "I'm going for a healer." She announced.

"A healer is not the custom." Fazia corrected the Northerner, not mentioning that there were no healers in the palace that day. "Midwives attend births."

Nadereh laid a hand on Kalasin's belly, felt the muscles under the skin bunch. "Send for a priestess of the goddess, and bring a healer." She said gravely.

Fazia flinched and Varice withheld a gasp. In Carthak, healers generally tended to men and midwives tended to women. The Tortallans noticed nothing unusual, because no such separations existed in their minds. Duke Baird cared for female patients, and Alanna cured men as often as the other way around. But in Carthak, sending for a healer during a birth indicated an extremely difficult time.

Varice threw a veil to Lianne, while covering her own hair. "You don't know the way. I will go for the priestess and healer. Take Alina and find a manservant to send for the Emperor." She ordered. "He will know to send for a priest of Mithros to begin those rights."

Kalasin tried to breathe, but another pain hit her. "The baby can't—,"

"Hush." Fazia said. "It's not too soon."

"Now you need to stand up." Nadereh coaxed.

"Ring for a servant and a tub of cool water. Quickly." Fazia ordered crisply. Lianne, Alina and Varice fled. "We'll go back to your rooms, quickly now."

Nadereh supported Kalasin on one side and Buri held the other arm. Nadereh explained. "You have to cleanse yourself, especially if the water broke. Then you can put on a fresh nightgown-- light and cool. Won't that feel better?" She asked her sister-in-law, who looked terrified and confused.

"And we'll get you some nice cold water to drink." Fazia promised. "You'll be fine, little daughter."

Kalasin's knees buckled, and Buri and Nadereh barely caught her. They walked her through the corridors to her own suite, where maids waited with a full tub. Somehow, Buri and Nadereh wrestled Kalasin out of the restrictive clothing and into the bath. Despite the heat, she was shivering. With her skin exposed, the women could see the muscles moving in constant contractions. Kalasin moaned in pain. Buri, Fazia, Nadereh and the maids shivered and made the sign against evil.

In later years, no one remembered how they finished the bath or dressed Kalasin in a night gown and settled her in bed. A parade of maids traipsed through, bringing drinking water, washing water, ice, herbs, ointments, cloths and bowls. Each tried to make herself invisible. Old habits ran deep, and at a time as charged as this, no one wanted to set off Fazia. No one remembered how long it took to realize that the priestess and the healer would not arrive in time, but everyone remembered the moment that the Empress turned to stare at a dark empty corner of the room. "The Black God's in the corner." She whispered.

Buri shivered at Kalasin's certainty, but all she could do was hold Kally's hand. She'd never seen a labor come on so hard and so fast with so few pauses. And she had never seen the hollow dread in Kalasin's face on the face of an expectant mother. She was accustomed to anger, fear, even drugged confusion, but not hollowness.

Nadereh took it upon herself to argue. "And the Goddess is in the other corner. During every birth life must fight death." She adjusted a pillow behind Kalasin's back. "When my time came, every time, with Gazanoi and Alina and Farouk, I was certain I was going to die. But I didn't." Her eyes clouded slightly, perhaps remembering that one of her sisters had died in childbirth.

Kalasin shook her head. "I don't see the Goddess." Her face went white and she squeezed Buri's hand as though life itself depended on it.

A frightened maid tried to back out of the room. Fazia held her there by the shoulders. "Find that priestess, girl, or I will make sure your life isn't worth living."

The maid dropped the basket of towels and fled. "Kally, you're a healer. How do we slow this? Your body is working too hard too early—you'll be exhausted before it's time." Buri said.

"Draw the curtains." Fazia said. "We need to create a soothing, sleepy environment. Then the hyper-labor will end." The women did so, as Kalasin breathed.

Nadereh looked at her mother and shook her head. Things didn't look good. They left the bedchamber to speak in the sitting room.

When the pain released its grip on Kalasin, she released Buri's hand. Buri found a bowl and some cold water. She sprinkled in lavender, for its pleasant smell and soothing properties. She bathed Kalasin's sweaty face with cool water, and wished she weren't so utterly out of her element.

"I'm not ready for this." Kalasin rasped.

"What are you talking about?" Buri smoothed the black bangs to the side.

"All of it." Buri held a glass of cold water to Kalasin's lips, steadying the young woman's trembling hands as she soothed her parched throat.

"There's no way to prepare for the pain." Buri said frankly. "Your mother got angry when she had Roald. She felt like she'd been lied to, that no one had told her the truth."

Kalasin panted a little. "She told me. The midwives told me. My mother-in-law told me. Everyone did. I just couldn't believe them."

Buri nodded, wishing for words.

"I'm scared." Kalasin whispered. "Not just of the pain—lots of women do that. And the healer will bring herbs to ease it." Buri laughed a little, patted more cool water on Kalasin's face, and dried the skin. "But what happens after?" She grimaced. "I'll be a mother. I'm not ready."

Buri laughed. "No one's ever ready, and if you think you are, you get a nasty surprise. You just have to muddle along as best you can."

Kalasin did not speak again for a long time, as another contraction threatened to rip her body apart. "Where's Kaddar?" She asked.

"He's praying, according to the custom of these people." Buri lied. In actuality, he was still at the hospital dedication, utterly unaware of the proceedings. "Praying for a healthy baby."

"A healthy heir you mean." Kalasin gritted her teeth, closed her eyes and endured.

"That may be in the thoughts of the courtiers, but all your husband wants is you, safe and sound." Buri said, as Nadereh and Fazia reentered the room.

Nadereh came up to the bed. "Take a break." She counseled Buri. "Drink some tea. Talk to my mother. I'll stay with the Empress."

Kalasin clung to Buri's hand. Tears were gathering at the lashes of her tightly closed eyes. "I'll stay a little bit." Buri said, humming Kalasin's favorite lullaby from those long ago days of cradlesongs and nurseries. Kalasin's body relaxed a bit, but after a few minutes, she began wiggling, trying to get comfortable. The unceasing contractions began to separate into more reasonable intervals.

Nadereh's eyes drilled into Buri's, and the warrior frowned in deliberation. So there was something Nadereh and Fazia knew that Kally shouldn't know. And they wanted to tell Buri. "Actually, I do need to visit the privy." She untangled her fingers from Kally's. "I'll be back soon. Until then, your sister is here to take care of you." She reassured her friend's daughter.

Nadereh looked slightly pleased at the term "sister." "Birth makes us all sisters." She lectured. "I didn't believe it, until it happened. But then, it was hard to believe that I was any better than the maids who bathed my face. Those ladies seemed like angels of mercy, you know? Even so, I wanted my family."

Buri slipped out of the room. Fazia was sitting on a sofa, holding what amounted to a counsel of war with maids, Lianne and Alina. Buri sat. "The healer and the priestess haven't arrived yet?"

"Nor the priestess of the Goddess, ma'am." A maid wrung her hands.

Alina looked disturbed. "That's wrong. They always welcome an heir."

"Darling, go into the hall and see if she got lost." Fazia "suggested."

Alina protested, but she left. Lianne's hands twisted a handkerchief in her lap. "They're not coming, are they?"

"It always seems that way." Fazia didn't answer the question. "The babe has not had time to turn in the womb yet." She said flatly.

"Then he'll either have to come feet first or by the knife." Buri realized aloud.

Maids exchanged titillated glances. Fazia's face was horrified.

Buri forged ahead. "The knife is quicker, but there's danger with it."

Fazia explained. "No one but a trained healer may wield a knife against a member of the Imperial house without paying for it with his life. And as you can see, there are no healers here."

"In this entire palace, there's not one healer?" Lianne felt close to exploding.

"They've gone with my son and Zaimid to dedicate the new children's hospital."

"All of them?" Lianne demanded.

The maids and Fazia nodded.

"What about in the city?" Buri tried.

A maid shook her head, and Fazia explained. "They'd forfeit their lives by touching a noble woman with a knife. But Lady Varice is undoubtedly there looking now."

With difficulty, Buri held her tongue. "You're a member of the Imperial house." The K'mir said. "Would you be executed?"

"No, but I have no skill with the knife. If I tried to bring the baby that way I'd probably cut too deep and hurt it, or permanently destroy the womb. It's not a risk I'll take."

"If someone doesn't take a risk soon, we will lose them both." Buri said. "Is that what you want?"

"You nursed her. She is like your child." Fazia set aside delicacy. "Do you mean to tell me you want an unskilled butcher to take a knife, cut open her belly, pull out the baby and sew her back together?" Lianne gulped. "The chances for infection or bleeding are too great." Kalasin's mother-in-law insisted. "It's better to wait."

"Kalasin is like my child." Buri agreed. "And I don't want her harmed. But her pains are barely separated, her body is closed and the child has not moved at all. If labor continues, her heart will beat into a frenzy, or the blood will stop pumping. The time is near, whether we are ready or not."

Fazia swallowed. She was sweating, a thing Buri had never imagined she would see.

Lianne trembled. "I'm going in to see her." She stood, and left the tense sitting room. The bedchamber was dark, with the shades drawn, though sunlight edged in around the curtains. Nadereh sat on a stool beside the bed, arms locked with Kalasin as the Empress struggled through another pain.

Lianne stood helpless as her older sister sweated and grunted. The Tortallan-turned-Carthaki woman's eyes were closed, but tears were collecting on her cheeks. "I don't think the healer's going to get here in time." Lianne's voice sounded disconnected to her own ears.

Kally's eyes opened. She nodded once. Nadereh lifted her eyes to meet Lianne's. Kalasin's sister-in-law mouthed "Talk."

Lianne fished an ice chip out of a bowl and offered it to Kalasin. The Tortallan princess stood by the bed. "So this is my future?" She asked, to lighten the mood.

"Goddess I hope not." Nadereh said.

"Kaddar?" Speech was difficult for Kalasin, but she managed the one word.

"Not yet." Lianne said. She turned and fetched more water. "Drink." She ordered, sitting down on the bed, facing Kally. Her knees brushed Nadereh's as she ruthlessly poured water down Kalasin's throat.

Nadereh patted Kalasin's face with the lavender water. "You're being very brave, little sister." She crooned, pushing Kalasin's damp hair off of her face. "And soon you'll have a little baby, and you'll forget it all."

Kalasin convulsed as her legs cramped. Lianne rubbed at her sister's legs, overwhelmed by the feeling that this was not what she had envisioned from a visit to Carthak.

Nadereh began to sing a soothing Carthak song. The rhythm helped potential mothers to regulate their breathing. Fazia joined in the song as she and Buri entered the room, apparently having brokered some sort of a deal.

Nadereh ceded her stool to Buri. "Kally, your pains are close together."

"I noticed." Kalasin tried to say, but a contraction hit and she could not speak.

"We don't think that the priestess or the healer will arrive in time." Fazia said.

Kally gritted her teeth and nodded.

"It's necessary to do certain cleansing rites, before the birth of an heir." Fazia said.

"Alina wants to be a priestess someday." Nadereh said. "Why not bring her in and let her assist you?"

"She's too young to see this." Lianne protested. "I'm fifteen and I think this is horrible."

"We all think it's horrible, but Alina'll see worse." Nadereh guaranteed. "As a priestess, she'll see girls your age, who can't afford healers, laboring to bring another child into poverty and squalor." Nadereh continued relentlessly. "At least this child is welcome. His parents have the resources to provide for him. Whatever his mother suffers, there are people to care for both of them."

Kally made eye contact with Nadereh, then Buri, and finally Lianne. "Watch my son." She said with effort. "Swear it."

"You'll do that." Lianne's protest was cut in half by Fazia's glare.

"The mother of this child is dear as blood of mine. Her child is of my clan." Buri said, in ritual K'miri. "I pledge my service to him and his mother, for as long as it is required of me."

"I swear it." Nadereh agreed. "Now you swear to me that you will live. My brother will be a broken man if he loses you." And perhaps it was the ghost in her eyes, a residual memory of something the widow knew all too well, that convinced Kalasin.

"I swear." And Kalasin closed her eyes again. She sank into herself, but she was facing the corner she had identified earlier as the Black God's.

Kalasin felt as though she were falling through a well of shadows. Her father had described the place once, brokenly, when he was trying to tell her why he and Alanna were friends. She fell forever, but it was over in seconds. She felt as though she were floating, but she did not feel unsafe. And she recognized one of the shades. "Emry?" She asked in wonder, reaching out to touch him, and failing.

"Kally." The shade of the Queenscove knight changed from joy to concern. "It's too soon for you to be here."

"I fell, I think. Is that a baby?" Kalasin heard a faint crying. "It is—it's my baby, the one I lost—I have to find her." She began to run. In seconds, she was flying past thousands of shades. She was running the way she had when she was a child, before high heeled sandals and heavy robes, before her body became an ungainly stranger to her. But she could not move fast enough because the baby was still wailing.

Emry grabbed her. "Kalasin, your daughter is in good hands. But you have other children who need you now."

Her eyes locked with his, and he released his hold. "You touched me." She wondered. "I couldn't touch you."

"You've been here too long." He explained and warned, pleasure at seeing her mingling with fear for her safety.

"Not until I see my daughter!" She turned wildly. A woman appeared, cradling a little girl. Kalasin didn't know the woman, but she did recognize Kaddar's nose and her own ears on a pretty little girl. Kally reached out for the child, but Emry jumped between them.

"No!" He said. "No, the longer you're here the harder it is to go back." And you have to go back. He chokes on the words.

Kalasin reached around him, as the woman and baby drifted back. "Kalasin." He said. "Listen to me now. Your grandmothers are watching after her, I swear. But you have to go back to the mortal world NOW. You will get lost and trapped here if you don't."

Tears choked her. "But…"

"Lianne and Kalasin are very devoted. She wants for nothing. Go back." He took her hand and they began to run. But she wasn't flying like before, and it was hard to pick up her feet. Nevertheless, she fell up through the well of shadows. Emry blew kisses at her, ordering her to give them to his parents and siblings.

Fazia left and got Alina, who was carrying the staff of a priestess of the Goddess. The child looked vaguely excited and frightened. She repeated the ritual words her grandmother whispered to her, flinching at the smells and the groans. The ritual took only five minutes. Fazia hustled Alina out amid protests, and then returned. Buri had boiled and sanitized a knife, but suddenly she hesitated.

The fear in Lianne's eyes mirrored the anxiety in Buri's own heart. For all her brave words, she was not a healer. She could do field surgery, but that was nothing like the delicate arts that healers worked so hard to perfect. In the very center of Carthaki learning and education, why couldn't they find a healer?

Before making a cut, Buri conducted an examination of Kalasin's lower body, trying to determine the baby's position. Fazia ran manicured hands over the bared skin, in silent support. At least the abdomen remained firm. Fazia had never officially been a priestess, because of her brother's reign, but she had learned some healing from the women who dedicated their lives to serving the Great Goddess. "His head is here." She touched a spot. "It ought to be there." She indicated the other location.

Buri looked at her. "Are we agreed that no other choice exists?" She asked, the knife suddenly feeling too heavy to lift.

The door swung open, and Alina flew in. "Uncle Emperor is here, with the priests of Mithros and Cous- Lord Zaimid! But the priestesses say that no men should enter, and the Mithran priests say they should be on hand but the Goddess's priestesses won't let them since we did the purification already."

"Bring Zaimid in." Buri dropped the knife as if it were a hot coal, promising the Horse Lords good behavior for all of her days in recompense. "He's a talented healer."

"He's a man." Nadereh's eyes were slightly wide. "She has been sanctified. No man may touch her until the heir breathes."

Buri almost bit her own tongue in half. "Can he come in here and instruct me in what to do?" She choked.

Lianne gaped. Indomitable, fierce, peppery Buri was not going along with this madness, was she?

"The priestesses won't like it." A maid who had followed Alina whispered.

"Well I don't see a priestess here." Buri's tone could have stripped paint off of walls. "Get him quickly."

"Alina, come with me." Fazia took her granddaughter's hand. "We must go and pray with the Emperor."

"He's not allowed in here?" Lianne asked, as they left.

"How many times do we have to tell you? Men do not attend births in Carthak." Nadereh snapped. She swept back Kalasin's hair. "She'll need to drink gallons when she wakes. Tell Kaddar she wants an orange. Searching for a perfect one will keep him occupied."

"Not till she wakes up. She's my sister." Lianne warred against her awe and terror. "How can I help?"

"Get her to suck on an ice chip. And bathe her face." Buri said. "She's very hot, but she's not aware enough to drink. We'll probably need you to hold her leg too, soon."

Zaimid entered, robed in white. "It appears I have a patient I may not touch?" He asked.

"She's in bad shape. The pains aren't even separated by a minute, but the head is still there." Buri indicated the place. "But the feet aren't presenting."

Zaimid assimilated the information in a businesslike manner. "Is she conscious?"

"She lost it about ten minutes ago." Buri said briskly. "It was more merciful. I have a knife sanitized, but I'm no healer." Nadereh moved away, as Buri arranged blankets around Kalasin's unconscious bulk.

The emperor's cousin nodded. "Have you tried turning the child?"

Nadereh glared. "We're not fools. We couldn't."

"This stupid custom…" He grumbled.

Lianne turned to Nadereh. "I know you're a Carthaki, but I'm Tortallan and so is my sister." She said firmly. "As the princess of Tortall, a foreign dignitary, I am ordering this healer to cure my sister and deliver her child, using any effective or necessary practices."

"You don't understand! She hasn't touched a man since she conceived this child. That is the Carthaki way. To do so now defiles the labor." Nadereh tried not to notice that Kalasin's breathing had changed and that the color was draining out of her face.

"After that father plants the seed, nothing changes the child. Please, let him save her. No one but we three will ever know." Lianne begged. "Do you want to watch your brother lose his life's companion and his child?" She attacked.

Nadereh fell back.

"Do you want to lose another sister to this? When there's someone here to help?" Lianne badgered.

Nadereh bowed, and Lianne felt a brief stab of remorse.

Buri pointed out: "He'll be up to the arms in blood."

"I'll bathe with the babe." Zaimid said. "Each of you hold a leg. I need to examine her." He reached and performed an exam. "Goddess, there isn't room to fit half a noble in there. No wonder the labor hasn't progressed."

Kalasin moaned softly. Lianne gagged.

"If you can't do this, leave." Nadereh said fiercely.

"I will not leave my sister." Lianne said.

A tense, bloody quarter hour later, Nadereh was washing a squalling infant boy, while Zaimid worked on the mother. Buri was talking to Kalasin, trying to bring her to an alert state. Buri rubbed ice over the heated skin and prayed that it would end swiftly. Kalasin was sweating. He face and lips were white and her eyes were fluttering. "There's another baby." Lianne whispered. "That's why there was no room for this one to turn. It's why they came early."

"Is it alive?" Nadereh asked her cousin, as little Kirabo took a prepared bottle.

"It's head first at least." Zaimid responded tersely. "Won't know more until we actually have him."

"Or her." Lianne insisted.

"Are the smelling salts ready?" Buri asked Lianne, who proffered the vial.

"Should we wake her up?" Lianne indicated Kalasin. "Maybe she could help. Push or something."

"Not just yet. This one has a shoulder out in the world, might as well wait till Mama can hold it." Zaimid said. He left unsaid that he wasn't sure Kalasin would wake up. The baby finally exited the womb.

Lianne put the salts on the table. Nadereh handed the boy to her. Buri uncapped the wakeflower and wafted it under Kalasin's nose as Zaimid sliced the second baby's cord. Nadereh took the second slippery baby and washed her.

Zaimid helped Buri wake Kalasin, who was retching due to the wakeflower. They packed ice around her body—towels of it across her forehead and neck and stomach. Buri pedaled Kalasin's legs, keeping them elevated above her head. The Empress's blood pressure had dropped critically low. He faced was corpse pale. There was literally no color in her lips. Zaimid coaxed her to keep her eyes open and cough. Lianne reminded Buri that there was a flask of sweet fruit juice nearby. With the sugar, and the cold, Kalasin came back to herself at the same time the foul afterbirth spread across the sheets. She looked around, confused. "My baby."

Lianne grinned, rocking the little boy from side to side. At this point, no new smell could faze her. "See, all that work and you got two of them." She told her sister.

Nadereh brought the little girl forward. Kalasin reached out her arms toward her children. Lianne lowered Prince Kirabo to his mother's pillow. Kalasin began to cry in relief. "My baby." She repeated. "I saw her with Emry."

Buri's eyes teared. "Thank you Goddess." She whispered, then turned respectfully to bow to the Black God's corner. Everyone with a free hand made the sign against evil.

Nadereh placed Princess Gzifa between her mother and twin.

"Kaddar?" Kalasin asked, pleading with her eyes.

Zaimid had already thrown open the door. The Emperor ran into the premature dusk of his wife's bedchamber. He knelt beside her, barely noticing that Fazia and Alina and Varice had followed. His frightened eyes canvassed her sweaty, pale face and ice-packed body and shaky hands. His nose registered the lavender and the herbs and the afterbirth and the blood.

"Surprised?" Her blue eyes met his, trying to say 'it's okay.'

He put his hand on top of her soaked head. He rubbed her forehead with his thumb. "I love you." He told her, because it was the only thing that mattered.

She nodded once. Fazia gathered Kirabo in her arms and Nadereh took Gzifa again. "Everybody out. The Empress needs to wash and rest before there's a parade. You'll all get a chance to hold the babies." Buri managed to shoo out the crowd. Zaimid followed the babies to do a more thorough exam. As Kalasin was cleansed, Buri stripped the soiled linens off the bed. She whipped a fresh gown over Kalasin and worried at the pallor of her skin. "How do you feel?" She asked.

Kalasin's mind ran through genuine answers. Frightened. Hot. Light headed. Tired. Confused. Sore. Relieved. "Good." She answered.

Buri laughed. "You are your mother's." She kissed Kalasin's clean, wet hair. "And now, you are a mother."

"Can I see them?" Kalasin begged. Her head ached, her entire body was heavy and too hot, her hands were cold, but she had to see her babies. The miscarriage had felt eerily similar to this, but there had been no child to fill her arms and wash away the pain. The images of the shadowy place were fading, but not the urgency of her run and search.

After Kalasin was nestled in the bed, well propped by cushions, Buri summoned Kaddar and the fed, washed, diapered, wrapped babies. Fazia and Varice, both of whom were reluctant to surrender the children to Buri, had replaced Nadereh and Lianne. Relentlessly, the K'mir chased the well-wishers away. She settled Gzifa in her mother's arms and helped Kaddar support Kirabo's head. Then, with misty eyes, Buri left the family alone for a few precious minutes.

The entire room smelled of lavender. Forever after, the scent of lavender called this perfect moment, stolen out of time and place, to their minds. Kalasin was still shaking. She touched Kirabo's cheek, and let Gzifa curl perfectly shaped fingers around her own long index finger. "Is it real?"

"I think so." Kaddar kissed his daughter's temple, gazing in awe at their miracles. He kissed his wife over the heads of their children, and for one moment her knew that he had more than he had ever thought to ask for.

The next moment, Gzifa mewed and Kirabo followed her lead and Kalasin's head drooped in exhaustion and Kaddar found himself up to his ears in new situations. But they always had that single, perfect moment.

Responses to feedback:

Hanakazari: Thank you for your compliment on my characterization! It's one of the points I worry about most as a writer. I'm also glad you like Linn and the Players—I thought they deserved a mention. Thanks for your feedback.

Princess81: Thank you for your compliments. I'm blushing! Thank you for saying that you think it's good to write about some less developed characters—I'm glad we agree that there's a story in Kaddar and Kalasin. Thanks for your honesty about the last chapter. I was going to make a separate vignette about Thom, but then Alan and Roald wanted to have a say, so I gave it to them. Thanks also for saying you think I deserve reviews. I'd like to get a lot, but I think quality reviews that explain both what a reader likes and doesn't like are more valuable than a large quantity of "update now!" reviews. Thanks for your feedback, please keep reading.

Trickster666: Aw, I think that is the first time anyone has told me I update fast! :). Thanks for your feedback, it's much appreciated. I'm glad you liked looking at the world through Alan's eyes and I'm very flattered that you wouldn't call Linn a Mary Sue. Good luck with your own awesome fiction—I'll read and review whatever you post next. Thanks for reading.

Lady Silvamord: Thanks for your feedback! I've very sorry about the spoiler; I marked it here. I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter and that getting multiple points of view enriched the story for you. I'm flattered that you like my take on sibling interactions so much! We're going to be in Carthak for the rest of the story, so that should make you happy. And I've been seeing lots of Kaddar Kalasin ficlets cropping up—hopefully it's feeding your muse. I took your idea about oranges for this chapter too. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate getting your feedback.

Razzberrycat: Thanks for your feedback! I'm glad you like Alan. It was hard to guess who Aly's twin might be, but I wound up really liking him. Thanks for reading.

Evilloveberry08: Wow. Thank you so much for your feedback. I'm honored that you think I'm weaving the details and the motivations together. I think in real life, people often act from deep, if hidden motives. "original and stunning story"—I think I'm stunned. Thanks for reading, please continue to do so.

Chips1314: Thanks for deciding to review! I'm really glad to hear that you're enjoying the story!


	10. Sisters' Part

Chapter 9

"Kalasin?" Kaddar tapped lightly on the door to his wife's cabin, "are you ready?"

"Almost," She called, as she pinned Gzifa's diaper.

Kaddar sighed. Over the years, he had come to realize that his definition of "almost ready" differed significantly from Kalasin's definition of "almost ready." For him, it meant that the obstacle preventing immediate departure was insignificant, or easily fixed. For Kalasin, "almost ready" could mean any state of dress, from undergarments to physically prepared and mentally scattered. "Are you decent?" He tried again.

"You can come in." That voice belonged to Lianne, his sister-in-law. She was going home today, with Buri. It was a bittersweet occasion for all. Bitter because Buri and Lianne were leaving, but sweet because the Naming Day of the twins had finally arrived and Kalasin's mother would meet Gzifa and Kirabo.

He opened the door and saw Kalasin in a pink silk garment, high-heeled sandals and a gauzy veil. Gzifa was settled on a blanket on the bed. He blinked. "Is that your slip?"

"No, darling, it's the latest fashion." Kalasin blinked at him innocently. Kaddar thought she was teasing, but he wasn't sure. He looked to her sister.

"The ladies are calling it "husband's regard." Lianne told him. She was similarly dressed in blue silk, sans veil.

"Do you like it?" Kalasin twirled and plucked the diaphanous material out of her hair. She draped it over a mirror and twirled for the pleasure of feeling the cloth swish.

He stared. The silk was like liquid on her—it was completely opaque, but in the way it flowed and moved, it invited any amount of speculation about exactly what was underneath the dress. "For the bedroom, but not for public!"

Lianne turned her face away as she giggled. Kalasin kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're not going outside like that?" He asked hopefully.

"There's an overdress." She told him, pointing at an impossible lacy web that would conceal nothing. It was shot through with silver and gold threads, and the hem was beaded with pearls.

"You'll look like the top of Varice's cake." He warned.

Kalasin laughed. "Don't worry, I'll be presentable. That's Lianne's shawl. That's the overdress." She pointed to the corner.

He sighed. "The fashion?"

"Apparently I'm not the only one tired of wearing a gold collar. Your regard for me will show quite clearly whenever I wear this in your company." She smiled wickedly, feeling pleased to have recovered her figure after the long months of pregnancy.

Kaddar's arms encircled her, and he kissed her quickly. Lianne turned her eyes to the infant princess, cooing at her and grinning. Only a few months ago, Kaddar would not have touched Kalasin spontaneously or in the presence of others. But now, he did both. "Enough." The Tortallan princess said. "Stop teasing your husband. I'll do your buttons for you."

Kalasin stepped into an elegant green damask-velvet garment. It was a hybrid of Eastern and Southern styles, combining the best of both styles in a single gown. The pattern was cut rather conservatively by Tortallan standards, though rather daringly by Carthaki standards. The neck scooped modestly, but the bodice fit tightly. The skirt fell straight from an empire waist, trimmed with gold braid. The sleeves were a combination of leg-of-mutton and bell patterns. The fabric was heavy—it was native to Chelogu, the province of Kaddar's father. The Empress picked up the veil and positioned it expertly. Lianne brought a crown over, which Kalasin used to anchor the veil.

Kaddar's beloved spun on her impossible heals. "Well? Aren't I a credit to you?"

"You could run around in sacking and be a credit. I have just learned to cover up that which is precious and beautiful, lest the gods cast their eyes and grown jealous of too much beauty." Kaddar bowed. "Are the babies ready?"

"Dressed and pressed, though it'll last all of five minutes." The aunt shook her head. "Kirabo is going to be such a handful for you, Kally."

"I know. He's with his grandma. She accused me of spoiling him." She winked at her husband. "Really, she and your niece just want to fuss over him. Here, put this on, Lia." Kalasin held out a garment.

Lianne shrugged into a floor length jacket of finest linen. Like Daine's of a decade earlier, the hem was weighted with beads. Her silk undergown was blue, while the jacket was violet. The combination complemented her complexion. She would wear a thin tiara to mark her rank, after he hair was dressed. Together, the dark-haired sisters made a very striking picture. Kalasin began combing Lianne's tangled hair while Lianne straightened out the thousand and one bows on Gzifa's Name-Day gown.

The Emperor picked up his daughter before she could fuss. "You don't have to go home right away." Kaddar found himself telling his wife's sister.

Kalasin stopped brushing her sister's hair. Lianne looked up, and the girls shared an upside down smile. Lianne reached a hand back, and Kalasin took it and squeezed.

"We talked about that." Lianne admitted. Kalasin resumed brushing her sister's hair. "If I stayed, I could learn more about riding, and I could teach Alina a thing or two, perhaps. And I could study art at the University, and have a very pleasant life. I could marry a noble, to strengthen the alliance between our realms. I could stay and play auntie to your darlings."

"But?" He sensed her hesitation.

"But I would live my life behind these veils. I would miss seasons and crisp Midwinter. The slaves are hard for me to see. I would miss Liam and Jasson and the family. And…there may or may not be a young man for me at home."

"The Maren prince?" Kaddar inquired, "I thought your parents' messenger said that was to be delayed?"

"A Tortallan." Lianne blushed.

Kaddar met Kalasin's eyes. She smiled slightly, and nodded. "I'm okay." She mouthed to him.

Kaddar nodded. "We're dropping anchor at the temporary dock, and then you ladies may come out and walk to shore. They've almost finished with the tents." He handed Gzifa back to his sister-in-law. Kaddar executed a bow, not deep or overly formal, but a mark of respect.

His wife returned his bow with a gracious tilt of her head. "Would you mind going next door to check on your mother and our son?" Kalasin asked. "She decided to make sure that the heir, at least, represents Carthaki nobility."

Kaddar nodded. "My sister and Alina are with her."

"Just…" His wife hesitated.

"I know, I don't like being parted from them either. I'll check. Be ready to disembark in twenty minutes?" He pleaded.

The sisters nodded.

"Good," Kaddar acknowledged without much faith, "Buri and Varice said they'll have everything prepared by then, come hell or high water."

Kalasin giggled nervously, "Don't say it like a challenge," She pleaded.

He nodded, and left.

"Thank the gods Varice is being such a good sport about doing this celebration picnic style," Kally said to Lia.

"Varice is relieved, I think. She actually suggested holding it on land to Buri, but we didn't think there were any neutral Islands in the Great Inland Sea," Lia answered as they turned their attention to dressing Gzifa in the elaborate over-gown, "I think this thing has more buttons than the pink tissue dress." Lianne exclaimed after a minute.

Kalasin giggled. "Moderation is not something that Carthakis understand, or accept with grace." She said simply.

"I guess not." Lianne grumbled.

"Mmm." Kalasin tied the last microscopic bow and lifted her daughter up high. "Oh, doesn't she look perfect? I wish I could keep this moment, forever."

The sisters stood together. Kalasin was slightly taller. Lianne rested her head against her sister for a moment. "You mean you don't want her to grow up and get married and move away and have babes of her own?"

"You took me too seriously." Kalasin blinked away the sentimental moment. "I do want her to grow, and learn, and see beautiful things. But I fear the time when I cannot protect them, when there will be problems less easily solved than hunger, or wetness. When the day comes that he leaves me to become a page, or she leaves to study magic, I would like to have a record of this moment, to remind me. In case she turns into Nora and crabs at everyone over a lost ribbon or decides that her mother can't do anything right…So I can think, yes, there were wonderful moments."

Lianne laughed. "She might be like you, and think that her mother is completely wonderful."

Kalasin sniffled. "Oh, I am going to miss you."

"Me too." Lianne whispered, and then the sisters were hugging each other, with Kalasin's daughter between them.

"You will always be welcome in my Court. If you ever change your mind, I could find you a nice young artist or horse trainer to marry."

Lianne broke the embrace and found a handkerchief. "Someone might have something to say about that. I hope."

Kalasin shifted Gzifa to her other arm. "I'm sorry I couldn't wait to have the babies until after his ship launched, but they decided that they wanted to meet their family."

Lianne laughed and sniffed. "We're going to have to redo our faces now, you realize?"

"Let's wait till we're ashore. It'll be easier on dry land. Now answer me."

"I don't want to say anything about him. I mean, what if he doesn't feel the same? What if he met a girl in Corus who would be less trouble? What if he decides that enduring the gossip isn't worth it?"

"Since when has a Swoop child been afraid of wagging tongues?" Kalasin arched an eyebrow. "I think you're imposing your superficial fears on him so that you don't have to think about what really frightens you."

"And what really frightens me?" The little sister challenged.

"That Liam will disapprove."

Lianne sucked in her breath.

Kalasin plunged ahead, "If I had liked anyone at home, Roald's opinion would've been the world to me."

Lianne made a face. "Liam likes Alan."

"As your beau?" Kalasin spread a cloth over her shoulder and lifted Gzifa so that to baby peeked over her mother's shoulder.

"I don't even know if it'll be an issue." Lianne insisted. "Come on, let's go prove your husband wrong and be early."

"Oh no." Kalasin laughed. "If I prove that I can be ready early once, he'll expect me to be on time to everything. No, I'll get there on the dot and not a second before."

Lianne smiled. "You really are the Empress, aren't you?"

"Remember how Mama used to say 'when you're important, they wait'?"

"No, I don't think I do." Lianne said.

Kally paused and considered. "Actually, it wasn't Mama. She was always just a bit overly optimistic about how quickly she could get from the stables to supper. Maybe it was the Duchess of Naxen."

"No, she always says: "I have many vices, but punctuality isn't one of them."" Lianne corrected.

"I thought the Duchess of Queenscove used to say that, only she used "virtues" instead of "vices."" Kalasin thought for a moment.

"You might be right." The younger sister conceded, "Are you excited?" Lianne finally asked, emphasizing the word "you."

"What do you mean?" Kalasin tried to smooth her features into a bland expression.

"To see Mama again."

"Of course I'm excited."

"Because it's all right if you're nervous or something."

"I want to see Mama again." Kalasin said distinctly. "I want to, but at the same time, I want her to approve."

Lianne stared for a moment. "Approve? How could she do anything but?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Kalasin shifted Gzifa to her other shoulder. The baby had slipped into her mid-morning doze. "You know the story. By the end of her and papa's first three years, there was a new tax code, a new education system in the works, and the Queen's Riders had been established. She had two babies, the hearts of the realm and a nickname."

"In your first four years as Empress, you have worked on improving access to education, phasing out slavery, and improving conditions in jails. You built schools, hospitals and orphanages, just to name a few. You have two children, and, in case you didn't notice, you have a nickname too."

"Empress of Carthak is a title, not a nickname."

"Do you really not know?" Lianne teased. "Sit down, I want to put this ribbon through the crown."

Kalasin sat, "All I know is that my husband keeps joking about brawls between Copper Islanders and my subjects about whose Queen is more beautiful."

"They're calling you Kalasin the Beloved."

"The Beloved?"

"Because Kaddar didn't take a second wife when you and he took your time about producing heirs. And because he's so devoted to you. And because you are good to your people, and they adore you."

The Empress laughed, "And because I created a fashion trend called "husband's regard"?"

"That may have something to do with it," Lianne agreed.

"Kalasin the Beloved," The Empress tested the name, "I wouldn't mind being remembered that way."

"You are, you know?"

"What?"

"Beloved. You are loved, by your family and friends at home, and here."

"Here, I think most of them still love an image."

"Kaddar loves more than the image."

"I know," Kalasin agreed. "I think that Nadereh and I have the foundation of a real friendship. I like Varice, but she keeps me conscious that I am the Empress and she is my housekeeper."

"It's lonely, being everyone's boss. I think Nadereh will be a good friend. And there's nothing like seeing your sister's inner workings to build common ground, right?"

Kalasin blushed, "Have I told you the schedule for the day yet?"

"No, I don't think so." Lianne tied the ribbon in Kalasin's hair to match Gzifa's ribbons.

"When we get to shore, we'll sit in the ladies' tent. I imagine we'll take off our finery, to avoid rumpling it or sweating to death."

Liane nodded, "That velvet is thick enough to get the Lioness through November in Scanra."

"Ah, but the women of Chelogu, my husband's province, made it for me to honor me on the day my children are offered to the gods," Kalasin shrugged. "Buri, Nadereh, Alina and Princess Fazia will join us in the tent, with my son. Varice will probably be in the kitchen tent, checking on her work. We'll have a snack—probably a variation of the mango lassi that Lord Zaymid's bride brought with her from the Copper Isles. We'll feed the babies, get dressed again, and by that time the Tortallans will be ready. The ceremony will occur, we'll have a meal, exchange gifts and letters and then…" Kalasin's voice trailed off. She stood up and ambled over toward the porthole.

"And then I will protest that we can't sail away at dark, but suggest we wait until first light. No one will disagree, so we will go to the ladies' tent with Mama and you two will talk all night, and in the morning we'll exchange lots of hugs and kisses, and you will promise to pay us an Imperial visit over the Midwinter that Alan tries for his shield, and we'll show your babies all the things their mama did when she was a little girl, and they'll see all the people you knew and loved. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Yes." Kalasin bowed her head away from her sister, "A good plan." She breathed in Gzifa's new baby smell, and felt her heart give a pained thump.

"Then what's wrong?" Lia worried.

"Nothing," Kally said, "Nothing real. It's just that," She stumbled over her words, "I'm afraid that I'll see them, and I'll freeze. All the love and the sorrow will mix and I won't be able to say anything. It's not very much time to get reacquainted and then be parted again. And what if one of the boys comes? Liam, or Jasson, or even Roald? I won't be able to see them face-to-face. I'll have this veil between us."

Lianne bit her lip, "I don't think you'll freeze. There's pain in the present, but there's more joy. The babies need you to be here, and you need to be with them more than you need to retreat or heal."

The Empress shifted her daughter, but left the cloth on her shoulder. "Have you always been so wise?" Kalasin teased, but she approached and touched her sister's arm to say she meant it lovingly.

"It's a recent development. And now, we better go, or we will be late."

"I'm chronically late," Kally answered. "Lia?"

"What?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" Lianne asked. She didn't think that she had done anything really unusual.

"For being my sister. I'm not as lonely as I was before you came."

"Oh Kally," Lianne plopped down, heedless of the wrinkles, and began to cry, "I don't know if I can really leave. You make me not feel lonely too."

Kalasin embraced her little sister with the arm that wasn't holding the baby.

Lia's tears wet the cloth. "What if I have to go to Maren?" She asked, "What if Alan doesn't love me? What if he wants me to stop drawing and riding? What if I never find anyone to talk to?" She babbled.

Kalasin made soothing little sounds and patted her sister's back, "You won't have to go to Maren. Papa and Mama will give you a choice. You are always welcome here, even if Tortall turns out not to be your place." Lianne wailed, and Kalasin bit her tongue for a half second, before continuing, "Alan does love you, but if you choose not to make a life together based on that feeling, well, you'll find someone or something else to live for. I don't know which "he" would want you to stop doing things that you love and are good at, but he wouldn't be worth your time. And even if there's no one there to talk to, imagine I'm there, and say what you would say to me. Then put it all in a letter, and I will answer, okay?"

Lia took the baby cloth off Kalasin's shoulder and dried her eyes. "I'm ready. Let's go ashore."

Author's Notes:

Marisa1: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Thank you for telling me that you like Kally's struggles and their consequences. I'm also glad you like Alan and Lianne—hope you're happy with this last chapter.

HeartKel: Wow, thank you for an extensive response. I will try to watch tenses more closely in the future. You are absolutely correct, grammatically, in your correction of the bandits comment. However, even well educated people do not always speak correctly. If it assuages your sensibilities, perhaps Alan said "But if you hear about a great number of bandits who have been terrified into surrendering themselves to King's justice, don't ask too many questions." Thank you very much for enjoying George's dialect. One of the exciting challenges of dialogue is keeping it true to how people of various classes and educational backgrounds and genders speak, while still keeping true to the character. I am so flattered to be called "Tammy literature." Thank you!

Rowenhood: Thank you for telling me you enjoyed reading the story! I thought I would err on the side of caution when it came to the rating for the birth. Thank you so much for liking my characterization, dialogue, and interpretations of canon. Thank you for reading the story!

Hanakazari: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that the Conte kids are entertaining, and that you liked the family dynamic I tried to show in Carthak. I'm glad you like the story!

Princess81: I'm sorry you were confused. When Lianne and Buri were discussing Kalasin's choices, it was a flashback to their conversation that morning. It occurred before the sewing party, which was why I set it off with tildes (). I'm glad the suspense hooked you. Actually, in the latter part of the chapter I meant to show Kalasin having an out-of-body experience analogous to Jon's during the Sweating Sickness or Rosethorn's at the end of Briar's Book. She did choose to live, but she acquired a measure of peace about what happened to her first child. Thanks for reading, I'm glad you liked the chapter!

Lady Silvamord: Your reviews always make me smile. I'm glad you like Nadereh and that her emotions during Kalasin's labor/delivery were understandable. Thanks for saying you liked Kally's meeting with Emry and her daughter. Are you glad that I took your advice about the twins:) About the grammar: some of the run-ons are there for effect. I wanted to give this sense of confusion and disorientation, and in print, nothing does that (in my opinion anyway) like bad sentence boundaries. When a reader has to think about where to take a breath, it helps him or her to feel the confusion an author wants to create. On the other hand, when the device is abused, the text is unreadable. When I do revisions, I will definitely keep your feedback in mind. Thanks so much for sticking with it.

razzle-dazzle-me: Thanks for your feedback! I'm glad that you're enjoying the story. Alan and Raoul are in the next chapter, which is almost completely written. I'm glad you like it—that's significant enough for me!

Rosie eisoR: Thank you for reading the story! I'm glad you're sticking with me—I originally thought the story would be about ten pages, but it has turned into eleven chapters. Go figure. Thank you very much for explaining the rule about quotes, commas and periods. I must've missed it during my first trip though Eats, Shoots and Leaves. I tried to fix it in this post, though I'll confess that it's hard to break the bad habit I formed in six years of writing. Thanks for giving feedback! I'm glad you approve of the way I use minor characters—it's one of the things I love in your stories, especially Cythera and Douglass.

Robinwyn: Thank you for reading all nine chapters:) You paid me such lovely compliments—I'm blushing that you had to remember where you were in TQ. Thank you so much for agreeing with my philosophy: characters should not be forced to act outside their natures for the convenience of plot. The plot evolves out of the characters, and they do have a way of indicating what they want to do and don't want to do. I hope your own writer's block gets cleared up soon. Sometimes, writing a different scene helps get the creative juices flowing so you can go back to that tough moment. Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience. In a busy life, I understand how tough it can be to find time to read (let alone write) fic. I'm glad you'll be looking for the last three chapters!

Kikyo: Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're enjoying my writing and the story!

Trickster666: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you think the story is cool. I've enjoyed writing it so much more than I can say. Thanks for your compliments about the birth scene—I did a lot of research before I wrote it. The first draft was a lot more graphic. I toned it down since that wasn't the heart of my story. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Drunken Little Monkey: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you like the story.

Also, I send out a great big thanks to all the judges and folks at the Tortallian Heroes & Emelan Circle Awards. I am honored to be the second place winner in the Immortals section of the contest for 2004. Thanks to all the judges: Merhen, Whispered Promises, Nicole Hickson, Sam Imes, Leah, Xelena, Fyliwion, Lady Miko, Nyctophiliac and HuntressDiana!

Two chapters left.

I have fifty reviews:)


	11. Voyage to a Name

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 10/11

Author: Kate, I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.

Rating: PG

Authors Note: Thanks for reading! I appreciate it. Just to let you know, I will be in Italy for a month, so the conclusion will be posted at the end of June. I've enjoyed the ride this story has been, and I hope you have too.

Chapter 10

Thayet the Peerless checked her appearance in the small oval mirror, tucking nonexistent wisps of hair into her elaborately woven hairstyle. She was getting ready to transfer to a Carthaki yacht, and mentally reviewing the political intrigues and morasses that waited to trap her. The fact that the leader of Carthak was her daughter held no significance when it came to the touch of nations, the negotiation of fishing rights and trade.

Someone knocked on the door to the cabin, so she bid him or her enter. Raoul poked his head into the cabin and viewed her fretting with tolerant and amused eyes, as he was prepared to transfer to the Carthaki yacht as soon as it docked parallel to the Tortallan vessel. But Thayet had been dressing and fidgeting and playing with her hair and cosmetics since dawn. "I'm almost ready." She tossed a wry smile at him, for this was patently false.

"I know." The dark haired knight refused to contemplate how many times he had heard that over their years as friends. He had known her longer than Jon, even. Since that long sea voyage, back when Alanna was wretched and Liam was distant and Buri was out of her element… They'd become fast friends, out of defense against boredom if nothing else.

She turned around to look in his face. "Do you remember when we were their age?" She reached up to straighten the medals on his chest, as though she were his mother or his maid.

"Kel and Dom?" Raoul asked, his mind still in Tortall, on the King's Own. He had not left them since their last sea voyage together, and though he trusted his former squire and his successor in training, it is hard to leave an organization that you built with your own hands to the care of others.

"Kalasin and Kaddar." Thayet supplied, her mind occupied by her long-absent child. "It still seems to me like they're nothing but children. But they're leading this huge, unstable land. And I think back, and I wonder, "were we ever that young?""

Raoul prudently did not point out to his sovereign that she had ruled a large, unstable land for a long while. "The country has stabilized quite a bit. And they're not that young. They have two children," he reminded her.

"Can you imagine how far over their heads they must feel? Twins!" Thayet sighed, not in envy.

The childless man shrugged, out of his element. "I wouldn't know."

"And when do you plan to grace the world with your own young ones?" Thayet adopted the tone of Raoul's infamous aunt. The woman was constantly looking to expand the already large family. Buri had described the Goldenlake gatherings as "a den of lots of large people, all yelling." Buri had used it to explain why Raoul was such a quiet man.

"It's been hard to work on that situation, since my wife has been in Carthak." Raoul pointed out.

Thayet nodded. "She'll be home soon enough." The queen sighed wistfully. "That first year, every yawn, every sigh, every burp the baby made seemed important enough to change the course of nations. I tried to arrange reconstruction of the Hall of Kings around Roald's naptime, for a month or so, till the Duchess of Naxen called me on it."

"I remember." Raoul admitted, smiling almost sadly. "It's like that with the first child. Alanna acted as though the sun rose on Thom."

She nodded and wedged herself into the carved wooden rocking chair taking up space in a corner of their cabin. "Every movement the baby makes exhilarates you, but it panics you too. I remember looking at Roald. He was about a day old, and he was asleep on a cushion, on my bed. I didn't even touch him, I just watched him sleep. I remember thinking that he was such a miracle. But when he woke up, I wanted to look for his real mother, to give him back, or to ask what his cries meant."

Raoul laughed. "You never told me that before."

"I never told anybody that. Not Buri, not Alanna, not Cythera or Eleni. Not Jon. Especially not Jon. Compared to where we are today, we barely know each other then. I thought he wanted a woman as dauntless as Alanna."

The Giant-Killer shook his head. "He would've been glad to know you were as terrified as he was."

They shared a smile. Thayet stood again. "It's hard to guess what it'll be like, to see her again. There've been so many milestones in her life since the last time we saw her."

Raoul nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes, that's true."

"But you're not worried." Thayet planted her hands on her hips.

"Even though her present and future are in Carthak with Kaddar and Kirabo and Gzifa, you are her mother and I am her godsfather. We hold her past. Her first steps and words and early dreams and fears live in our memories."

"They're having so many firsts." Thayet said, and her tone was sad.

"You wish you had been there?" Raoul asked, though he knew the answer.

She did not attempt to clarify his use of the vague 'there.' "I just can't believe that my best friend saw my grandchildren before I did."

"Does that bother you?" Raoul was confused. "Because you sent—,"

"I know I sent Buri and Lianne. If you look at it a certain way, I sent Kalasin too. But even though it's my fault they are where they are, yes, it does bother me. I didn't want to take your wife away so soon after your marriage, because, believe it or not, I do want you two to work on a child or two. My heirs will be safer with Tourakam descendants in this world. I don't want it to bother me. It's petty, and small. But it's there, at the back of my mind. No mater where we go, I have power while she has freedom to move."

"You're not being petty, to wish you could be with your daughter for a moment that will change her life. And grandchildren are not petty," Raoul said. "You've been blessed with three in one year, and your hair isn't even white. Will they call you "little mother" or Granny?" The big knight was grinning.

Thayet blinked bright eyes.

Raoul backtracked. "I'm sorry you weren't there to share it with her. I know you wanted to be." A teardrop trembled at the corner of Thayet's eye, and Raoul spoke rapidly, hoping to avoid a storm of tears. "It's just…how it is."

Thayet nodded again, silent. But she wasn't weeping. "It's not that. I mean, it is. But not. Granny? Did you have to use the word Granny?"

"I was teasing, little mother." Raoul said, relieved to avoid a flood of tears that would end with him being chastised for ruining her makeup.

Thayet nodded, "I am glad that you could come with me," she uncurled herself from the chair and took his hand in her own.

He squeezed it, gently, "The practice is good for Kel and Dom, and the time away from home is good for you and me. It's a shame the king couldn't come."

"Jon's the Voice of the Tribes. He'll never leave Tortall. But even he is taking a holiday of sorts, so that Roald can stretch his wings a bit."

"Which tribe is he staying with? Do you remember?"

"I think he went to Persopolis first, then as the wind takes him."

"Thank the gods."

"He'll last a month, at most."

"It's a month more of vacation than he has taken in years."

Thayet nodded. "He has wounds to heal in the desert."

"And you? Are your wounds to be healed by the sea?"

"Holding my daughter may heal some old wounds."

Raoul refrained from asking if Kalasin's wounds or Thayet's own would be addressed by contact. "It's too bad that Nora, Liam and Jasson could not accompany us."

"Yes." Thayet agreed, with a slight hesitation..

Raoul forged ahead. "But it is good to see Nora growing into herself."

Thayet flashed back to a conversation she had had with Jonathan about their troublesome daughter.

"I mean she's less shrewish, now that she's finding direction."

Jonathan pulled back. "Shrewish? Isn't that a bit harsh?"

Thayet evaluated her husband. He was a shrewd leader, an able and competent judge of character. But he was nearly blind when it came to his daughters. Every man had a weakness, and Kalasin, Lianne, and Nora were Jon's. "Not overly." She said honestly.

"She was abominable to the Tyran, I admit." Jon gave in grudgingly. "I know the prince was hardly an ideal life companion, but doesn't she trust us not to deliberately make her unhappy?"

"She couldn't help herself. She's too clever by half—without enough to keep her energy and talents occupied, she finds mischief. She's a little bit like Aly used to be. I think George knew what he was doing when he gave her books on Maren.""

"The Maren prince isn't much better in himself than the Tyran."

Thayet agreed, but offered a counterpoint she had been carefully storing for the proper moment. She only had to plant a seed in her husband's mind, so that they could ponder together the best solution to this intrigue. "No, but remember the ambassador they sent?"

Jon did, in a vague way. "The one she called an obstinate fool?"

"He beat her at chess." The queen explained.

Nora's father scoffed. "She hasn't lost at that game since she was twelve."

"Only because she won't play with anyone she knows is better." Like Aly and George, Thayet thought, but did not say. Nora disliked losing, and so she avoided it the way Raoul prevented losing a joust against Wyldon of Cavall.

"That's statesmanship." Jon argued lightly. "Never go to war against someone you're sure will whip you."

"Do you train by beating your inferiors at a game, or by struggling against your betters in practice for a true battle?" Thayet asked serenely, beginning to check the ribbons in her box for the hundredth time. "Anyway, the ambassador annoyed her, but he kept up with her. Though I almost thought she would cause another international incident by pouting after that game." Thayet peered into the depths of the box. "She makes just a little too much fuss about not liking him—but I noticed that she spent a lot of her time looking for him and thinking about him, for all she claimed to dislike him."

"How was he connected to the royal family again?" Jon checked the lacing of his boots.

"A cousin. Seventh or eighth in line to the throne, though there's rumor that he'll be Prime Minister to this Prince's King." Thayet held up two brooches. "Which should I bring to Carthak? Rubies set in gold or mother of pearl inlay?"

Jon shrugged. "What's wrong with the one you have in the box?" He asked, unwisely.

She rolled her eyes at him in a way that sent him toward the door. "Perhaps I'll check on Alan and Raoul and their progress."

"It's good that the news arrived in time for us to delay Alan and Raoul. It's better that they could wait to make the journey with me, and they transported the gifts."

Jon quirked an eyebrow at her. "I thought you wanted Alan and Lia to spend time together."

"I decided it would be more informative to watch them greet one another." Thayet stretched. "Besides, it would be foolish to send three separate groups to Carthak in six months, no matter how sentimental we – or I – felt."

Jon nodded once. "I'm going to check on our progress." He informed her. "You look beautiful. Now stop worrying and make sure the gifts are ready for transport."

"Aye Sire." She gave her partner a mocking little salute as he left the cabin.

She returned to the present moment. "Hopefully she will find some common ground with the Maren ambassador. Jon was encouraged by their progress last time we wrote."

Raoul nodded. "There seems to be a lot of growing up going around. Roald and Kally are parents, gods bless us. Thom's at the point where he's teaching basic classes at the university, on top of his own studies. Liam's a knight, Lia and Nora are courting. It sounds as though Aly is going to marry her Crow fellow. Jasson's a page and bidding fair to make you proud. Of the Swoop children, that leaves my squire. What do you think of Alan?"

"I've know Alan since he was born. He comes from a good family, but until this voyage I haven't spent enough time with him to say I know who he is, what his convictions and philosophies are."

"And?"

"My son chose his dearest friend wisely, and my daughter chose her potential life-mate well. The three of them are well suited to be lifelong friends and companions."

"But it's Roald who'll rule."

"Yes, but Liam's to be his Prime Minister. And Jon's been subtly testing Alan. The lad has extensive knowledge of the Bazhir and their lore. He respects them, but what's equally important is that they respect him. He understands them."

"He did live with them for a year while he was deciding whether he wanted to train to be a knight or a sorcerer."

"He learned much from the tribe that adopted his mother, then. The Voice of the Tribes is considering grooming Alan as his successor."

Raoul's face displayed mild surprise. "But then Alan could never leave Tortall again. With parents like his, he's bound to have itchy feet."

Thayet shrugged eloquently. "He is the son of the Burning Brightly One, the Woman Who Rides Like a Man. They call him Lion-Tamer because he managed to domesticate and train a pair of lion cubs to hunt for the tribe and to act as a guard. Aly herself calls him a cat—he's his own master, even if he chooses to answer to us. Since we city-dwellers call his mother Lioness, you know how much prestige he gains by that nickname in superstitious circles. Add to that a potential marriage to the daughter of the Night One? If Alan became the Voice, it would link the Bazhir to mainstream Tortallan life even more strongly."

"Granted." Raoul said. "Not as strongly as a marriage to a Bazhir tribeswoman would, if you're being cold blooded about it. But by letting him and Lia choose, you're giving them a hand in guiding their futures." Raoul blushed, because the frank discussion of choice and partners was somehow alien to the big knight, "But have you asked him about being the Voice? That's a heavy burden to carry. I'm not saying he'll shirk, just that you should ask him, so he can prepare before you lay it on his shoulders."

"I'm letting Jon make that choice," Thayet responded honestly, "But I think it's all going quite well. Roald should have a competent, loyal cabinet."

"You might want to let him pick some of the key people, since you and his father already selected his Prime Minister and Voice."

Thayet nodded. "He'll choose the Champion, of course, and the Provost. He'll find a training master for the pages, and with your advice, he'll select your replacement in due time. And I hope that Shinko will take on the Queen's Riders and the Queen's Ladies."

"But that's years in the future."

"We hope." Thayet said fervently. "But the Horse Lords know that my nightmare is leaving the country in the state it was in when Jon and I began."

"Don't prepare it so much that Roald has no freedom to innovate, or to rule as he finds appropriate." Raoul cautioned.

Thayet threw him a hard look, and he laughed. After a moment, she softened and smiled. "From experience?"

"I used to try to personally oversee every company, every squad in the Own."

"How'd that work out?"

"Drove me to drink." Raoul said, trying to make it a joke and failing, "Every time a man died, or a horse caught ill, or a strap broke and we lost supplies, every time anything went wrong, I knew it was my fault for not watching closely enough."

"How'd you get past the need to control details?" Thayet asked, genuinely interested. She had a tendency to micromanage, and she was always curious about how others avoided the same fate.

"Gary sat me down and reminded me loudly that I only promoted men I trusted, so I should step back and let them do their jobs."

"That worked?"

"He used some obscenities and blasphemous remarks to get my attention and punctuate the message." Raoul fidgeted with the medals Thayet had already straightened. "I got the message, sooner or later."

Thayet laughed, because she could picture sarcastic, witty Gary behaving that way. "It amazes me some days that a man as peppery as he can be married a woman as sweet as Cythera."

"It shocked everyone," Raoul answered.

Thayet raised her eyebrows.

"That she would have him," The knight clarified, "He fell in love with her on first sight."

Thayet laughed, "I would've liked to have known all of you then, I think. When you were all new knights, and Alanna was Squire Alan, and King Roald and Queen Lianne ruled in harmony."

"It wasn't all like the old days from a ballad," Raoul cautioned, "I drank too much, Roger wove a trap around us and Delia was seducing all the fools who looked at her too long."

"How did she enchant you all? Was she really that beautiful?" Thayet asked. She had met the Eldorne woman early on, but Delia had been one more in a parade of faces and titles.

"Not compared to you." Raoul said, without a mind to flattery. "No, we learned later that Roger had cast some sort of love spell. Alex and his squire were immune, and so was Alan—Alanna. At the time, Alex decided that she was immune and she didn't dance with women because she preferred men. Which was true, in a way."

Thayet nodded. "Goddess, it must've taken ages for the shock to wear off of all the ladies who tried to flirt with him who was actually her."

Raoul nodded. "The Master of Deportment in particular got the flutters over that."

Thayet pictured a flummoxed Master Oakbridge and she laughed. "Tortall is a good place. I hope that Kally will feel the same about Carthak."

"Even if she doesn't feel it today, she may in time." Raoul said. "Now, are you ready?"

"Just let me check on the gifts. You go out and talk to Alan and the sailors. See what we can do about this chair."

"It'll be difficult to get one of the sailors to agree to row that thing anywhere." Raoul said in a neutral tone, though his eyes were twinkling.

Prince Jasson had insisted on sending a rocking chair to his sister, since he was not himself allowed to travel to Carthak. The first time Kalasin had left home, she was supposed to bring the chair that had always been in the Conte nursery. Kalasin had loved the chair as a child. The rocking motion usually stopped her tears and eased the hurts of childhood. As she grew, she sat in it when troubled or puzzled. It was an object that helped her to focus her mind. She shared it, though all the children called it "Kally's chair." Duke Gareth had given it to Thayet on the occasion of Roald's birth, but since the day the royal children had separate rooms, the rocker had been in Kally's chamber. Little Jasson had learned many of his letters cuddled on her lap, rocking back and forth as they drew on a slate.

When she knew it was time to go to Carthak to marry Kaddar, not even her chair had been enough to cheer her. It was left alone for weeks, until she returned to it, tucked her feet up and said, "I'll be ready." Her family hoped that between the chair and her horse, Kalasin might make anyplace feel like home. But on the day of her departure, the chair was nowhere to be found. The escort had begun to grow impatient as Kalasin looked about her in a state of mute distress for the vanished object.

With the help of Nora (who knew better), the youngest prince had broken the old rocking chair into kindling and burned it, perhaps thinking that the act of sacrifice and destruction would keep his oldest sister where she belonged. Jasson, who had been ten and young for his years, might have believed rumors that Kalasin would not leave Tortall without that rocker. But perhaps he was an angry child who lashed out at an object to express his feelings in terms those around him would notice. No one could ever exactly pinpoint his motivation, because Jasson himself wasn't sure if he burned the rocker to keep Kalasin where she was or to punish her for going away.

His actions didn't keep her in Tortall, of course, and at fourteen Jasson regretted his childish gesture. He had paid for the construction of an extravagant new chair out of his own pocket money. Thayet calculated that he had saved every noble in his allowance since the time he learned Kally was expecting until Buri and Lianne left. It was assembled in all its glory with glue and sealant and charms that were immune to fire and axe. He was determined to give Kalasin a chair that could survive anything, from a curious child to a goddess's temper tantrum.

The problem came with transporting the assembled chair. It had bounced around the cart, no matter how tightly Raoul and Alan tied it down. They had been eager to leave it in royal storage for Thayet to bring to the Naming Day, but before they could escape on a passenger ship, the message had come. Twin babies were born to the Emperor and Empress, so the knight and squire should wait to accompany the king and queen to Carthak.

In loading the boat, the chair had twice slipped out of ropes and nets. Even the most seasoned seamen viewed it suspiciously. The thing was currently wedged into a corner of Thayet's cabin, but it had taken three swearing seamen to get it through the door. It was tied tightly to the bed, which was bolted to the deck, but the chair still slid around during the rough part of the crossing.

"Don't remind me." Thayet mumbled, "I can't really complain, since it is Jasson's gift to his sister, but I wonder why he had the thing assembled before it got to Carthak."

Raoul smiled. "Maybe he wanted to see it."

"You might persuade the sailors by reminding them that whoever rows it to shore will be getting the cursed thing off the ship." Thayet suggested. "Or by offering a bonus at the end of the trip."

Raoul nodded. "Or a combination." Memories of the long journey to the coast played in his eyes.

"How much does it weigh, anyway?" Thayet inquired.

"I don't think it'll sink the row boat." Raoul did not sound convinced, or convincing.

Thayet shook her head. "At least everyone else sent small things that fit in one chest. Now, out. I've got to make sure everything's in order."

Raoul found Alan ready in a courtly tunic and hose and leggings. They watched the sailors swinging and scampering over the decks. "How much longer?" Raoul asked,

"We've spotted their vessel." Alan pointed to a speck in the distance that could have been a rock, a cloud, or a boat. "They signaled, and we're to meet on an island. Probably forty-five minutes to the temporary dock, then however much time it takes to shore."

"That's not what we agreed to." Raoul observed mildly. Such a decision should've been routed to him or to Thayet, as ranking nobles. Alan shrugged acknowledgment. The knight frowned. "What advantage does this give them?" He inquired.

"None, unless one of them gets seasick." Alan said, maintaining a steady stream of gratitude to the gods of the sea that he had not inherited his mother's stomach, "The babies might have made their displeasure known."

Raoul shrugged.

"It also might be easier for the servants to prepare a meal without the motion of the waves. Maybe they just want to make sure we're off balance a bit."

Raoul nodded reluctantly. "The idea of an island was discarded because no sufficiently neutral place could be agreed upon."

Alan fetched a spelled map of the passage from Tortall to Carthak from the forward compartment. With his forefinger, he indicated a mark that was small enough to be mistaken for a piece of dust. "This one hasn't been claimed."

"That's because there's not much on it, beyond a fresh water spring, sand and a shrine," Raoul explained. While the fine points of philosophy and mathematics had never appealed to him as a page or squire, he was a master at geography and cartography. He decorated with maps, and drew them in his spare time. While Jon filled his notes about spring planting with doodles and sketches of Thayet and the children, Raoul sketched coastlines and cities he planned to travel to.

"It has no strategic value as a staging ground. There's no good natural place to anchor a ship. You have to do it a few miles out and then row to shore. Permanent structures can't be built on it, because they fall apart. Besides the difficulty with getting timber and stone there in a rowboat, there are earthquakes and odd storms whenever anyone has tried. And believe me, Ozorne tried. It is a place that belongs to—," the knight paused, unable to finish the tale due to a violent coughing fit.

"Well, a day in tents may be pleasant." Alan tried to say brightly, though he wasn't overly enthusiastic about spending even an afternoon on a magicked island. He left sorcery to his brother and mother and political games of knowledge to his twin and father.

Alan's hand patted Roald's wrapped package in its hiding place in his pocket. It had become his habit to check that everything was still where it belonged, until the nervous gesture became just one more mannerism. "It's been a long time since we saw Kally. I wonder how different she'll be?"

Raoul shrugged. "Probably very. It's hard work, convincing your people that you can respect the gods and tradition and their values while you teach their children different ways to think or speak or behave."

Alan nodded. "We've seen that at home."

"Your mother and Keladry have challenged the expectations of the peerage. But make no mistake, Jonathan and Thayet changed more than options available to women. They offer education to peasants. And they treat the Bazhir as full citizens. Even in the days when your father and I were lads, that was nearly unthinkable."

Alan frowned. "My grandfather is Sir Myles. I've gotten history lectures from him on this subject before."

"You seem interested in the Bazhir."

"I like them." The squire said. "They don't ask much. Loyalty, hunting, a tale or two and that's it. In return, they'll give you all the companionship and stories you could ask for in a lifetime."

"Did you ever think about passing more time with them?"

"You mean after I earn my shield?"

Raoul nodded.

"It'll depend on when I get married and what sort of girl she is."

Raoul raised his eyebrows. "Did you manage to fall in love with a tribal girl during your year about the desert folk?"

"No." Alan answered, "You know, I know you know who I'm thinking about. I've lived my whole life with people who keep secrets for their living, and you're just not in that league, o knight master."

Raoul smirked at his squire. "Maybe I want you to say it for yourself?"

"Why don't you just tell me I'm not good enough for her and get it over with?" Alan braced himself.

Raoul blinked, "Not good enough? Did I really just hear the son of the Lioness call himself unworthy of anyone?"

"She's a princess. She looks like the fairies blessed her with beauty, grace and charm. She sounds like the gods trained her voice themselves. She's eloquent and witty. She draws like Volney Rain and she rides like Chavi Westwind."

Raoul snorted. "Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Dramatic?" Alan almost pouted through his own joke. "I just described an angel and all you can say is I sound dramatic?"

"What I meant to say is that you have her on a pedestal. Look at all the superlatives you used to describe her. You're idealizing everything about her, and ignoring her flaws."

"You want me to describe her flaws? She tries to do too much, and she won't give up. Even if you've been running three miles and there's a stitch in her side and she wants to throw up, she won't admit that she can't keep up. She feels sorry for herself sometimes, and then it's like talking to a wall. She tries to hide the fact that she's an idealist. She wants to make the world a better place, but she gets discouraged because she doesn't know where to begin and she sees how rotten people can be to one another. She judges people sharply and quickly, and if she decides you're a fool, she doesn't often revise her opinion."

Raoul snorted, because the description called to mind other women of his acquaintance.

"She actually likes mornings," Alan made a face, "I know her, the complete her. But she's only fifteen. I'm seventeen. There are three more years of training before I'm a knight and before I can think of marriage. A lot can happen between the age of fifteen and eighteen, or between seventeen and twenty. I don't want to say something to her and bind her to me and trap her. Because there's a chance that she will discover that the self who was bound to me is not her true self."

"She might say the same thing back to you."

"Even if she marries someone else, I will love her. I've loved her since we endured the Immortals War and the siege. I've loved her since she convinced me to ride bareback and I broke the fence. I've loved her since I saw her shrinking like a beaten kitten from the Maren toad. I've always loved her, I always will. It grows, and it goes through phases, but I don't believe it will end."

Raoul clapped his squire on the shoulder, and said nothing. Inwardly, he was contemplating first loves, broken hearts, and the likeliness that this infatuation would lead to the altar or a disaster. He was imagining how much more pressure Alan would feel if he know that Thayet was anticipating Alan's wedding and future occupation as Voice of the Tribes. "We'll be there soon."

razzle-dazzle-me- Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you've stuck with the story this long. I'm sorry to end it too, but I have a short Gary/Cythera piece in the works.

RosieeisoR – Thank you for reviewing. It's sweet of you to say I deserved to place in the THAs. And yay, there's someone else waving an Alan/Lia flag:). I'm so flattered that you like the fluffy fashion stuff! I don't think minor character usage is a disease, but when I post the Gary/Cythera piece, I might have to be officially diagnosed. Thanks for reviewing even though you didn't have much time. Thanks for reading!

Drunken Little Monkey – Just one now, yes. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Hanakazari – My Comp professor would adore you for noticing that sentence length and patterns can contribute to a lighter mood. I didn't think about it consciously—I don't plan sentence level concerns, but it does evolve as I write a chapter. Thanks! I'm glad that the desire to keep a moment rang true, and that you liked Kalasin's title. Thanks also for saying that the THA was deserved. It's a high compliment. Thanks for reading!

NarwhalGirl – Thank you! I'm flattered that you think my plot and character development is like TP's. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Trickster666 – Thank you for reading and reviewing:). I'm so flattered that you think I keep my characters consistent throughout the story. The fashion I came up with on my own, but the veils and such are from Pierce. I think you're overly harsh about how you write emotions—I always find it lovely in your writing. Though, to be honest, I look at stuff I wrote a while back and I cringe at how melodramatic I could be. One of the fun things about writing is that you get to practice and grow at your own speed. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

lily ponds, nee princess81 – Thanks for reading and reviewing! I can't imagine not seeing my mom for years and years, which is one of the reasons I think that Thayet and Kalasin would miss each other a lot. Separations used to be more common, as when immigrants left their families (sometimes forever) for the chance of a better life, but people who can do that are very brave. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

queenofdiamonds1 – Thanks for reading and reviewing. Wow, one of the best you've ever read? Thanks:) As far as I know, I'm not related to any famous writers, but I'm flattered that you would say so! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Lady Silvamord – Procrastination bug of doom? I've had that! Isn't it awful? Thanks for reviewing. Lianne's thoughts/comments about Kaddar's shy/formal behavior show her perception, not necessarily reality. Even if Kaddar was friendly around his courtiers in private, when Buri and Lianne arrived in Carthak, he felt awkward around Kalasin. He didn't like keeping the secret of the miscarriage from her family, so he told them, and then he felt weird around Kally, because he blabbed her secret. Even though she wasn't angry, it felt weird. And so, even though they had been married for a while, they put some distance between them by putting on company manners when in the presence of her family. I think that he was reluctant to touch her because of that awkwardness and because as a Carthaki man, he wasn't used to unveiled women whom he was not related to. But after he and Kally got things on track and the babies were born, Kaddar became more comfortable around his sister in law. But great questions! I love an excuse to ramble about the characters.

The veil thing—I think you're right, Kalasin would wear a flimsy thing rather than the full opaque abayah style other Carthaki women wear. But even if it is the sheerest, most see-through garment ever, it's still there between your face and the world. You can adapt to it, as thousands of women do, but to a woman who didn't grow up wearing a veil whenever she's in public, it's always vaguely distracting.

But thank you for saying you like it and for reading it. Hug back! Thanks.

Robinwyn – Thanks for reading and reviewing! I understand about schoolwork, so thanks for reviewing. Also, congratulations on your own breakthrough. Thanks for saying that the story deserved the second place award. Good lucky continuing to write!

Diorama – Thanks for reading and reviewing. What a fabulous question about Sarai and Alan! This story is slightly out of sync with TQ, but stay tuned to find out.

Lady Draconis – Not quite the end, but thank you for reading and reviewing.


	12. Fond Farewell

Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 11/11

Author: Kate, I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.

Rating: PG

Chapter 11

Kalasin lay in bed, her back pressed to Kaddar's. He was asleep on his side, facing the wall, while she occupied the right side, to more easily get up when one of the infants cried. She usually had no trouble sleeping. Even with more help than she needed, mothering twins was exhausting, and she looked forward to sleeping. But tonight, she was too unsettled from the events of the day to rest. She was fighting tears, because the idea of lying in bed crying, while her husband and children slept soundly in the same room, struck her as utterly pathetic.

After all, she was the luckiest woman in the world—or she knew she ought to feel that way. She had a husband who loved her, and whom she loved. She had two healthy, happy children. She was young, and she herself was of sound mind and body. She had as many riches as she could imagine wanting or needing. She had meaningful work, which she was well trained and suited to do. There was nothing missing from her life.

And yet, tonight, she felt a yawning emptiness. The darkness of the cabin felt oppressive and threatening, as though something waited in the darkness, waited to swallow her and her little life. She had a family of her own now—why did the departure of her mother and sister and friends cause this pain? On one level, Kalasin envied the peasant girls she read about, the ones who were born, lived, and died within a few miles.

The reasonable part of Kalasin tried to point out how much she enjoyed traveling and learning, and that she might not like her mother quite as much if they were living in one another's pockets. But the emotional part resented the rational intrusion. One day together was so, so little, after so long. And though she chastised herself guiltily for being so ungrateful, Kalasin ached. How was it possible, that in a heart full of love (as her own was, for Kaddar, Kirabo and Gzifa), that there was a void reminding her of brothers and sisters, mother and father?

Kalasin rolled onto her stomach, away from direct contact with Kaddar. Numair had once told Kally that the least bearable part of his imprisonment had been the long, empty hours, between sessions with the Inquisitor, when all there was to do was remember past aches and anticipate future punishments. Numair rarely—maybe never—talked directly about his suffering during the time he spent in Ozorne's jail. But he did teach the Princess who became Empress the method he had invented of reliving good memories—to slow down each detail of sight, sound, scent, texture and taste.

He had stayed sane, he revealed to the wide-eyed Princess (he had sailed over and arranged her quarters, in the months before the marriage), by this memory game. Numair had patted her hand and said, "I know you're not going to jail. You'll be happy with Kaddar. He was a good boy—I'm sure he's a fine man. And I would not leave you anywhere I expected would make you unhappy. But when you're lonely and longing for home, or--" He patted her hand, "Or you can't sleep, well, we're always with you, little one."

Kalasin had wanted to fling herself into his arms, weeping noisily. She had wanted to beg him to bring her home, to stop this charade of trunks and treaties and pretending that she, Kalasin, was grown up enough to be married. She almost desperately wished that she could go home and be everybody's favorite again. She wanted to be Roald's more lively shadow, wanted to be Daddy's girl, who could always make him laugh. Even then, after little more than a month of traveling, she missed the sound of Mama's voice and her steady advice. Mama always seemed to understand her. Kalasin wanted to go home and tend Kitten with Daine, to read with Jasson, and to heal with Duke Baird. She wanted to make a life in Tortall, with the people she knew and loved already.

But Kalasin did not crumble, because she had made a choice, or so she told herself. Sometimes, late at night, when Kaddar was asleep and she was not, she wondered if she really ever had a choice? When she was nine, she thought she did, when Papa explained that Tortall needed her to marry a foreign prince more than it needed a second Lady Knight. He asked her to make a sacrifice, and she chose to serve Tortall. She promised to marry Someone, Someday, if Papa let her choose who the "Someone" was. And she made another choice, years later, when Papa and Mama and Uncle Gary sat with her—their faces were so serious—and explained about Carthak and the proposal. She chose Kaddar for the Somebody, and the year 459 H.E. to be the Someday, and she was compliant while the King and Queen and Prime Minister sorted out details.

She made a choice when she arrived in Carthak, and met Kaddar face to face for the first time. He had found her eyes, through the veil, and they had nodded to one another. She had started to love him, even then. They had signed the betrothal compact—they would wed in six months' time, after she knew Carthak and its Court a bit better. She had chosen, and she would stick to it, but Mithros, Minos and Shakith, what was she doing! A certain part of her brain was shrieking, and the rest of her function was trying to squash that panic.

So though she wanted to beg Numair to bring her home, she steadfastly bid him goodbye, as a Carthaki noblewoman would have. Inwardly, she vowed to improve the prisons, so that men didn't have to invent memory games to keep their sanity. It was one of her many goals for Carthak. In their farewell, they did not touch. She had hugged him in the safety of the Tortallan ambassador quarters, but now they were on the dock, and maidens had been killed—"honor killings"—for less than embracing a man in public.

He'd been teaching her the rudiments of the technique for weeks, without explaining precisely what it was for. It wasn't quite the Liar's Dream or Palace or whatever construct they taught to spies. It was a combination memory enhancer and meditation technique that would improve her time here enormously. She wondered if he shared this with Riders and Squires, or if she was the first to learn this "game." Since they were in public, she could not even remove her veil. They bowed to one another, very formally.

Kalasin had cried that night. Though Numair had promised that Liam and his knight master would attend her wedding, she felt terribly alone in the foreign land. Remembering that first night, Kally turned over, to spoon against Kaddar. She was not lonely like that anymore, at least. And she would not cry herself to sleep, not when she had everything she really wanted.

Kalasin calmed herself by playing the memory game, reliving that afternoon. She began in the tent. The women around her had lounged and napped, while she held a book and day-dreamed lightly. The signal that communicated the Tortallan delegation's arrival sounded through the camp. The women woke, dressed again in their finery, checked coifs and cosmetics, and then walked out to form a receiving line. The men were filing out of their own tents. Kalasin sat on a gold plaited throne beside Kaddar—he always was ready before she was. She kept Kirabo cradled in her arms. Behind her, Fazia held Gzifa. A mage held canopies above the babies and children, to protect them from the strong sun.

Kalasin squinted, trying to identify individuals in the party. The copper-haired squire could only be Alan, and the giant behind him had to be Raoul. The slender woman dressed in red and gold must be Mama. Roald was not among the company, but neither was Liam nor Jasson.

It did not occur to her to look for Jonathan. He had only left Tortall once, during the Tusaine conflict when he had crossed the Drell River to rescue Alanna. To see her father, she would have to visit the land of her birth. After all, he was still the Voice of the Tribe. He had never missed a nightly communion with the Bazhir, and venturing from Tortall would strain the web that knit that fragile bond together.

Raoul and Buri greeted one another affectionately, the tall knight nearly bending in half to embrace his short wife. Raoul kissed Lianne's hand gallantly, bowed to Kaddar's kinswomen and then knelt to the Emperor and Empress of Carthak.

In that moment, with one of her oldest and dearest guardians kneeling before her, Kalasin realized in full what it meant to be the Empress of Carthak. It frightened her, and moved her to resolve to use this power wisely. As one, Kalasin and Kaddar gestured for Raoul to rise. Kalasin replayed the moment of unison again. Raoul rose, and then bowed to the men of Kaddar's family and household.

In the first moments, Alan had eyes only for Lianne, and their first glance spoke volumes. They clasped hands, palm to palm, and he kissed her once on each cheek, in the style of Gallan courtiers. Alina (and it must be confessed Nadereh and Fazia) had been titillated—Lianne was without her veil for this ceremony, and to the Carthaki women, it seemed indecent for a man and woman to touch so openly in public. No one commented, though the women noticed the way both flushed. Alina went so far as to sigh, a sound that was squelched by her mother. Lianne beamed at her prospective sweetheart. They dropped hands.

Alan bowed to Buri, since she would have laughed at him if he kissed her hand. He turned to Fazia and Nadereh and the other women, and the squire bowed politely. He kissed the back of little Alina's hand, and charmed her by producing a handkerchief from her ear. Nadereh had not quite approved—but it was a special day, and she did not offend her foreign-born sister-in-law by objecting. Alan bowed to Farouk and various uncles and cousins, then finally turned to the center. He also knelt in front of Kalasin and Kaddar. "Rise." She instructed, in a voice that did not feel completely her own. Even in her memory, it was alien.

Thayet proceeded through the gauntlet next. The Queen and her oldest friend touched hands and curtseyed together. Lianne and Thayet curtseyed and then hugged, briefly. Nadereh, Alina and Fazia curtseyed to the Queen of Tortall, while the men bowed. Kalasin stood. With her son in her arms, she curtseyed, and held the position. Thayet did likewise, each to the proper degree. It was like an ancient etiquette riddle. "How does an Empress greet a Queen, when the Queen is her mother?" "Very carefully."

Kalasin rose first, handed the baby to Kaddar and stepped off the dais to embrace her mother. Kalasin's eyes were shut against the tears that were leaking out. Thayet squeezed her daughter so tightly that Kalasin thought her stays might snap. They stayed that way for a long moment, then stepped back slightly. They maintained contact, each holding onto the other's forearms.

"You look well." Thayet said, and that single statement contained a million superlatives.

"Thank you." The words were inadequate, but Kalasin's tone contained everything she couldn't articulate.

Lying in bed, beside her husband, Kalasin tortured herself with the vagueness of those words. She understood what Thayet meant, but did Thayet understand her? When Kally had been a child, Thayet had always known what was in her daughter's heart. But now?

Hours before, they had studied each other. Gray strands had crept into Thayet's hair since they had parted. Lines creased her skin where her face had been smooth before. A moderate amount of extra flesh had settled around the Queen's middle. She was still the most beautiful woman Kalasin had ever seen.

Kalasin was dressed and pressed and pampered, more like a doll than a woman. There were shadows in her eyes that Thayet could see through her veil. Kalasin was thinner; her cheeks were not round with baby fat any longer. Her fingers were not calloused—she had not drawn a bow for at least the duration of her pregnancy and recovery. The daughter's skin was darker from the sun. She was the most beautiful woman Thayet had ever seen.

The women released. Kaddar bowed to his mother-in-law. The Empress motioned for Raoul and Alan to draw closer. Kalasin took Kirabo from Kaddar's arms and asked Fazia to come forward. She made sure Alan and Raoul could see the babies, but she primarily spoke to Thayet. "This cherub is your granddaughter, Gzifa Nadia Iliniat," Kalasin rattled off a string of titles, barely pausing for breath, "And this angel is your grandson, Kirabo Kendi Iliniat." She spewed forth his titles also.

Thayet gently took her grandson from her daughter, beaming. She supported the baby's neck and looked into his face, and at his ears and arms and legs. She was trying to memorize his little body. Had Numair also taught Thayet how to remember?

Kaddar watched for a moment, then began his heart-felt, though formal, speech to his in-laws and friends, "Thank you for making the journey. The heart of Carthak is gladdened that her sister Tortall joins her to celebrate the children born to our two nations."

Thayet acknowledged the opening volley, "The heart of Tortall is gratified that Carthak's ruler is strong and wise enough to cherish its treasures." Thayet handed her grandson to his mother.

"Of which family is the most precious." Fazia inserted. "We should continue our fellowship with food and drink."

"Mango lassis are prepared. We will serve in the shade of the largest tent." Varice shepherded them. The collection of nobles moved to the tents and began to speak.

Even that night, Kalasin had trouble remembering a single specific word that she spoke that day. Her memory was flawless in some aspects, but words eluded her, like wraiths in the mist. Though in later years, the twins begged for stories about their Name-Day every night for bed, Kalasin remembered emotions and images more than anything else, though she made up a few stories that she told so many times she forgot whether they were real or imagined. Sometimes, the way she told the story was more real than her memory.

The twins would begin begging for stories after they accompanied Kalasin to Tortall for Midwinter in Corus—the year Alan and Jasson passed the Ordeal of Knighthood and Alianne came home from the Copper Isles to see her twin knighted and Nora wed the Maren ambassador and Shinko gave birth to her third child, a son.

But that was years in the future. Kalasin could not, at the moment of our story, imagine that she would survive the pain of the parting. During the day, the sensations of love and joy and impending sorrow were so strong that at times, she did not know if she were laughing or crying. And now that it was all over, she was still confused. Disjointed images would come to her hours and years later—Varice holding a sherbet glass, Raoul and Kaddar sitting side by side, Thayet and Buri each holding a baby, Lianne and Alan making calf-eyes at one another, Alina and Farouk playing together while Nadereh smiled at them, Zaimid toasting his godschild… Though she didn't remember specifics, she held onto the joy and the hope of that day.

The ceremonies and rituals were performed, at the appointed hour, in the old way. The children were named and offered to Mithros, the Goddess, and the Graveyard Hag in turn. Alina helped the priestess perform the rites for the Goddess, and glowed in the ritual. As the child of a nonconformist, Alina needed the tradition and structure of her grandmother's house and the Goddess's temple.

The Black God was thanked for sparing the children and their mother. Kirabo fussed when the priest anointed him with oil, but he settled in moments to a rare solemnity, sensing that he should be on his best behavior. He kneaded his mother's sleeve with a small fist, fascinated with the heavy braid over the velvet. His sister behaved until she was touched by salt and then by water. She squawked indignantly, then nestled against her Tortallan aunt and settled again to sleep.

They feasted after. Varice had outdone herself—such food would have been remarkable and worth remembering from the fully stocked kitchens on the Imperial Palace. On a primitive island, the meal was a work of magic.

Nadereh offered to research great feasts and cooks of the past and their importance in song if Varice would come work in her villa. Varice blushed and smiled and thanked them all graciously for their compliments, but declared her intention to stay in Kaddar's palace. "After all," She laughed, "I designed the kitchens myself. The architect let me help with that part. I challenge you to find a kitchen laid out better anywhere in the world."

Then gifts were exchanged. Alina announced that the chair from Jasson was the most wonderful chair that she had ever seen. Kalasin managed to call it unique and thoughtful. She told them to express her thanks, though she was honestly a bit bewildered about how to get the thing onto the Carthaki ships.

Buri had given Kalasin a simple, perfect rocking chair at her baby shower. This ornate show piece wasn't padded, and the sides were at the wrong height to support her elbows. Nevertheless, it was the thought that mattered, and Jasson was thinking. And of course, it was the Jasson chair that the twins adored throughout their childhood. When her babies were older, in the year they demanded the story of the only time their grandma from Tortall visited, they always shrieked with laughter when she talked about the sailor who rowed the boat out to the ship, and the wave that knocked it into the ocean, and how brave cousin Farouk dove into the waves and pulled it back to the surface. But that was later too.

Kalasin remembered feeling her heart pound against her ribs when her nephew dove over the side. Nadereh had already been on board the main ship—she hadn't seen—and so Kalasin was the one to fuss over her nephew. She had wrapped him in blankets and kissed him and thanked him and forced him to swear he would never do anything so rash again. This also she relived—Farouk's blush at her praise, and Alina's chattering reprimand. She had already lost one brother, and she would not risk the other.

Raoul and Buri gave Kalasin clippings of all her favorite plants from Tortall. They had learned from Daine that Kaddar had a Gift for growing plants, and thought that she might create an arboretum of sorts, where she could go to teach her children about her homeland. Daine sent a kitten to Gzifa and a puppy for Kirabo. The animals and children would grow up together with their plants. Kaddar was pleased by this gift, since he liked to garden, but was often advised not to dirty his hands. Kaddar liked his hands caked in dirt, liked the cycles of growing things. It felt honest to him, in a way that ink stains and calluses did not. But his duty lay with the ink, not the dirt, so he set it aside for moments when he had the time.

Numair sent magical wards and protections for the children to wear. The Lioness and her husband sent more of the same, spelled more specifically against particular dangers. The catalogue of gifts went on, until Kalasin felt bloated by possessions and gratitude.

In thanks for the visit, Kalasin gave her parents a portrait of herself and the two babies. The work had been executed lovingly by Lianne and their Court Master. The drawing was mostly Lianne's, with some correction of line done by the master. The painting was entirely the princess's, except the skin of Baby Gzifa's hand. The Master had done that to demonstrate the ways to mix and glaze, to suggest veins underneath the skin.

Lianne had made a duplicate for Kalasin. Kalasin gave her sister a sketchbook and a valuable study of a painting of the Goddess in her Maiden aspect.

Buri and Raoul gave Kally a knife that could be worn as a hair ornament and a matching shukusen fan, all in the style that Shinko and her ladies had brought to Tortall. The style was so foreign—not at all the Tortall she remembered—that Kalasin mourned, internally, over the fact that even if she went home, she might not recognize Tortall. Time soldiered on, no matter how much you wanted it to be otherwise.

In honor of the births, Jonathan, through Thayet, offered an amended treaty on fishing rights. The document had been in the works since the marriage—its completion was indeed a rare gift, thought Kalasin never included it in the stories for the twins. It was too prosaic, too grown up. It spoke too much about the world they would inherit, and too little about the place she wished she could give to them.

Thayet brought a trunk of blankets and books and teething aids, packed by Cythera and Eleni. The books were learning tales and the kind of primer that taught children how to read. Each had been hand picked for illustrations or interest of the tale.

Kally felt swelled by the material displays of affection. She was an extremely wealthy woman, who wore expensive fabrics and gems with the unconscious grace of a woman born to those luxuries. But she was touched by these gifts because they showed genuine thought and good wishes. Even though the day was for her children, many of the gifts from Tortall had been tailored to her and to the way her friends expected her to raise a family.

There were gifts from the Carthaki family as well. Nadereh gave books—of course. Histories of the Empire and Emperors for Kirabo. Conduct books and myths for Gzifa. Zaimid gave each a small opal—good for the gift, if they happened to possess it. Kalasin already saw traces of a strong, natural Gift in Gzifa. The little girl would grow up to be a healer, perhaps. The possibilities were pleasant to imagine.

Fazia had supplied outfits—ridiculous garments that related to practical clothing the way a meringue (spun sugar mixed with egg) related to a loaf of peasant's bread. Kalasin didn't even think they were that cute—but she made a big deal of thanking her mother-in-law. She was more torn about what to do with the ruby earrings Fazia had given Gzifa and the ruby nose button Kaddar's mother had sent to Kirabo.

It was against Kalasin's custom to pierce a child. Those holes are permanent, and she didn't want to impose them arbitrarily. But the rubies were protective, and it was her husband's peoples' tradition to pierce a child's ears at an early age. Kalasin wasn't sure whether she should allow the children's ears to be pierced or stand firm against it—she wanted to ask somebody—another foreigner in Carthak—how to assimilate into Carthaki culture without losing her identity.

She watched Kaddar, the way he accepted the gifts graciously and spoke to the Tortallans. She studied the way her two families (Carthaki and Tortallan) met and mingled with one another. And she was grateful that her life had turned out this way. Carthak and the top of its social hierarchy were less lonely than she had believed just a few months ago, standing on a dock waiting to guess who was coming to visit.

At the end of the day, when it was time for Thayet (and everybody else) to leave, Kalasin felt the tears clogging her throat, choking her. As promised, Lianne tried to protest sailing at nightfall, but the island was at the very least rumored to be enchanted, and no one dared to linger after dark.

Kalasin's eyes were swollen with the effort of shutting them to prevent weeping. Thayet's face was similarly contorted, so the women embraced with closed eyes, forgoing a last chance to "see" one another. It didn't matter much—there was a lifetime of memories between them. Kalasin carried in her heart the picture of Thayet seated beside Jonathan, or dancing with him. And after today, she always carried her study of her mother's face, crow's feet and all. And, as time passed, Thayet could conjure images of Kalasin in her Carthaki costume, juggling babies and courtiers and servants. But in her heart, when she thought of her oldest daughter, Thayet saw Kalasin as the bright, curious little girl with a natural Gift to heal. No matter how old Kally grew, she was Thayet's baby girl.

Can I tell you what passed between mother and daughter in those moments together? I cannot, because the words said nothing of their emotions. They knew that each lived her own life, that each could be happy though many miles separated them. They were proud of one another's strengths. Kalasin and Thayet each had the joy of knowing that the other was happy in the place she was creating for herself, with the man she chose. But they ached at the parting. Knowing that your loved one is happy far from you is better than keeping them close and making them miserable, but having them close and happy is best of all. And it was so unfair that after more than 1500 days, they had only a few hours together. There had been so little time to just be mother and daughter, around the ceremonies and the other people.

After enough time had passed for them to have a sense of privacy, Lianne joined them. Kalasin released the tears finally, mouth shut tightly so that her sobs would not become audible. Kalasin embraced Lianne, and then the Princess led the Queen away from the Empress. The Carthakis averted their eyes from Kalasin's grief.

Alan had approached her and slipped a package into her hands. The thing was light and compact, but it felt dense. The exterior was covered in brown paper, and the wrappings were sealed with wax. She had tucked it inside her sleeve, and smiled, because she knew that only Roald would have sent a present via Alan. From her pocket, she pulled an envelope. "Will you give this to my brother?" She asked. She hadn't been able to give it to her mother or Lianne—there was just enough of the little sister lurking around her that Kalasin had waited for a moment like this. "It's honest letters and poems, about my life here. I always used to make him laugh with silly things like this."

Alan kissed the back of her hand—contact considered risqué by the Carthakis who were studiously ignoring this improper farewell. "He loves you, you know."

"I know. I love him." She took a deep breath. "I swore to myself I wouldn't cry buckets until the ship was out of sight. So, um," A quick breath and blinking interrupted her words, "Please tell your family I send my love." She lowered her voice conspiratorially "And tell your mother that, as the daughter-in-law of a formidable woman, I think she should go easy on whoever you and Thom bring home. And remind her how good Lady Eleni was to her, even though she broke your father's heart. And Alan?"

"Yes?" He looked expectantly at her veiled features.

"Promise me that you will take care of my sister and my brother."

He didn't have to ask who she meant. "Roald and Lia can take care of themselves. Plus there's always Nora to talk them away and Liam or Jasson to wrestle them to the ground." Like his mother, Alan was a poor wrestler.

"Yes." Kalasin agreed. "But I want you to do it. I trust you."

"It is my honor." He answered at last. "You didn't really have to ask. I've been looking after Liam and Lia since before—" He thought "Well, anyway, for a very long time."

"Thank you." Kalasin said, breathing deeply again, to control herself. "Um, don't forget to take care of yourself, and Lord Raoul, please."

"As if I need this runt for that." Her godsfather approached. Buri had followed Lianne and Thayet; Kalasin and her surrogate mother had said their goodbyes before the Tortallan delegation arrived. "So would I be turned into a target for your guards' arrows if I touched you?"

"My husband's people are still touchy about that." Kalasin said sadly. "And anyway, it's not you who'd be in trouble."

Raoul nodded grimly. "Are you…is it okay…"

'So this is why Numair dropped me off. Raoul would've listened if I asked him to bring me home, treaty be damned.' The former princess mused. "It's okay. I'm happy here." Kalasin guessed his hesitation. "You can't scoop me up and bring me back to Tortall now. You're not abandoning me. I'll be okay. I swear."

Raoul took her hands in his and squeezed, not enough to hurt, but enough to know he was there. "Come to us at Midwinter, in a few year's time." He invited. "When Alan and Jasson take the Ordeal."

"I would like that." Kalasin said, smiling at her old friends, through the pain. "Raoul, take care of Buri and Papa and Mama for me, please?"

"It is my duty and my honor." Raoul pledged. He kissed her hand, and then released it. "I'm proud of you, Empress of Carthak. You've become a formidable person, Kalasin."

At that point, Kalasin could no longer hold her tears inside. Shoulders shuddering, she babbled something incoherent about passing on her love to Onua and Sarge and a hundred or so Queen's Riders and King's Own.

In concern, Alina offered a handkerchief to her pretty aunt, which the child had hemmed herself. Kalasin scooped up Alina, kissed her cheek through the veil, and sent her to her mother. But she got herself under control, more or less.

At that point, the memories splintered. Kalasin thought she had embraced Buri, but she knew that had been earlier, in the tent… She had waved to the ship for as long as she could see it, while the camp around her disassembled. When the ship crossed the horizon, she got on the last passenger boat to the Carthaki vessel, with Farouk and Varice. Kaddar had gone back before—he'd looked so hurt when she cried. She had tried to stop, because she didn't want him to think that she wanted to leave, but it was too hard at that moment. She remembered the chair falling out of another boat, and she remembered kissing Farouk when he rescued the monstrosity.

She'd gone to the main cabin, where the babies were napping. Fazia was next door, unwinding however she did. In the safety of the cabin she and Kaddar shared, Kalasin had stripped to her shift, pulled on a sleeping gown, and collapsed on the bed. She was too numb to cry anymore. It had been only hours ago that she and Lianne dressed together here. How was it possible that the people she loved were so far away?

She'd dozed fitfully, waking when the babies did, and once, when Kaddar came to bed. They had kissed in greeting, and then they both pretended to sleep—neither was in the mood to talk. She didn't have the energy yet, and his feelings were stung that she'd been so open around people she hadn't seen in four years. Hours later, because of her nap, Kalasin was awake, though Kaddar was slumbering genuinely. She was not numb anymore—she felt like an exposed nerve. Kalasin tried to cuddle even closer to Kaddar, who adjusted, in his sleep, by moving his left arm to wrap around her back and rest against her.

She closed her eyes with determination. Shortly later, sleep took her. She dreamed of a future where she had never left Tortall to meet Kaddar. She spent days and years wearing breeches and loving her family and practicing healing craft. But there was no handsome, dark face smiling at her across the breakfast table, no twin babies to gurgle and caress. She woke at three am, breathing heavily, uncertain whether it was a nightmare or reality.

"You alright?" He stirred and yawned.

"Yes." She sat up and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Kalasin tried to reassure Kaddar, "Yes, everything's alright. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm." He mumbled sleepily. "Love you."

"I love you too." She answered, and settled herself beside him in the bed once again. "I love you, Kaddar." She repeated. Kalasin lay next to Kaddar, pulling the sheet up to her chin. She felt warm, full, safe and loved. She could not think of anything else she wanted.

"Good," Her husband mumbled. "Go to sleep."

Kalasin sat up, and kissed his cheek again. "Thank you for being so wonderful today. I think everyone enjoyed it a lot."

"Are you…?" His voice trailed off.

"They had to go home." Kalasin said, and she meant it. "It's not a bad thing that I'm sad about it. It's only bad if it hurts you."

He groaned. "Should I wake up?"

"We'll talk tomorrow." She promised, hands moving gently and lightly over him. She was just checking, she told herself, just making sure what was the dream and what was real.

"I'm not going to sleep if you keep doing that." He rumbled, but he was smiling. "It tickles."

"And your mother is in the next cabin." She teased, shaking her head from side to side, sighing at how good it felt to have her hair free and the night against her skin and the man she loved in the bed beside her.

Kaddar looked at the cribs warily. "And the babies are in here with us."

"I suppose I better stop." She kissed him, lightly—first the crown of his head, then his brow, then his nose, then his lips.

When she drew back, he murmured, "What was that about stopping?"

She almost laughed, and then laid down next to him. "I'm glad I married you."

"Me too." He faced her, caught her hand, and brought it to his lips. "I can't imagine life without you, Kally."

"Me neither." She whispered, into the warm, sweet dark. How had it ever seemed threatening, when it was in fact so full?

Authors Note: Thanks for reading! I appreciate it. When I started this story way back in February 2003, I had just finished Trickster's Choice and I was curious about that one-line reference to the Empress of Carthak. So I started to write. Originally, it was supposed to be a vignette, with Alianne coming to Carthak to help Kalasin. But somewhere in the writing of that vignette, I decided I wanted to see Kalasin and her sister, and then the first three chapters wrote themselves. I didn't know how it would all turn out—and to be honest, I really really didn't want the story to end.

It's been two years, and my life has changed, but this story has been a constant—a collection of characters who clamor "write me!" when I sat at the computer to write an application essay for graduate school, or academic papers on post-structuralism, discourse analysis, and other intriguing, but demanding topics. It's finally the end—I finally couldn't hold the ideas back any more. I hope it satisfies. Thank you all for reading—the ones who reviewed and the ones who didn't. I appreciate your interest.

Lily ponds – Thank you. I hope you didn't need too many tissues. When it came down to writing Kalasin and Thayet's parting, I just didn't have the words, though I hope you enjoyed the reunion. Thanks for reading.

LadyDraconis – I agree, Kalasin and Kaddar's first late night conversation was the high point of the story, though I personally enjoyed it all. Thank you for reading

Hanakazari – Thank you for the lovely feedback. I had a great time in Italy—thanks :). Thanks also for the compliment on the details. The chair breaking felt like something angry kids would do to keep their sister at home—even if it didn't work out that way. Thank you for saying I understand the feelings of the characters; I think that's important in writing realistic fiction. Thanks for reading!

Diana – WOW, Thank you! Glowing reviews like yours always make me so happy. Thanks for the compliment—like Tamora and well fitting :blush: I'm glad you enjoyed the story! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Me – Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

Elfsquire90 – It's over now, but thanks for telling me you enjoy the story!

Drunken Little Monkey – Yep, that's all she wrote. Not really—look for the Gary/Cythera one shot that should be forthcoming. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Buttons – Thanks so much for your feedback. I'm delighted that you enjoy the characterization and anecdotes. I find that even in fantasy and epics, the stories that touch me have characters with routines and little stories and a sort of life. Thanks for saying I didn't deviate from the quartet characters—I wonder about that sometimes. I'm blushing that you think the characters I developed are plausible and balanced. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Lady Silvamord – I look forward to your reviews most of all. You are always creative and lovely in appreciating my story—which makes me want to write! (You'll notice by the time lag, of course, that wanting to write and having time to do so are not the same thing. :(. If they were, I would have written a quartet in the time it took to write this story.) Thank you for saying the story got progressively better—I am so flattered you think so. I'm glad you enjoy Kaddar and Kalasin—as you know, you've developed quite a gift as a writer of that pairing yourself. Your sudden productivity really gave me a kick in the tail to finish this and move on to new stories. I'm sorry that Kally was sad and didn't want to talk to anyone, even beloved Kaddar, much in this last chappie. I'm not making promises, but I have a feeling at some point they'll tempt me to do a vignette (at least) all about them. But until the plot bunny hops by, I can't make any promises. I had a great time in Italy—thanks.

queenofdiamonds1 – Thanks for saying you liked the story!

Greatmothergoddess – Thank you for that compliment. I don't know if Lonely At The Top is the best KK out there, but I thank you for saying so.

razzle-dazzle-me – Thank you for your very sweet review! I'm flattered you think the story deserves awards. And as far as favorite Tamora Pierce story—just wow. It means so much that you said that. Thank you for falling in love with the lesser known characters, and thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

Anaroriel Wow! Thank you for this lovely review. I think it's going in a scrap book with all my favorites (basically all the ones from this story ;).) I am so flattered you think it's the best Tortall story you've seen. There are a lot of stories on this site, and I'm pleased to be in such good company. I'm so glad you like the details and my style and plot. I think you expressed your thoughts very nicely.

As for the Conte kids in this story: Roald (23), Kalasin(22), Liam(18), Lianne(15), and Jasson(14). I added a daughter: Eleanora(16). I made her up because, silly me, when Alanna asked about "princesses" in TC, I completely forgot that Shinko was, by the, married to Roald. I envisioned Nora as a bit childish, a bit spoiled. She wasn't supposed to act her age nearly as well as her dutiful siblings. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Gaileanna – Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm glad another author recommended the story to you (and I thank them also). How would you suggest making the summary more appealing to readers like yourself? Thanks for saying it was a nice fic. I know it was a bit dark—there are tones of that in this last chapter too. I'd like a fairy tale story for Kaddar and Kalasin also, but even in fairy tales, the protagonists have to go through a lot to earn their "happily ever after."


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